THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


33 P  Clara  Lamer  -Btirnbnm 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME.     Illustrated. 

HEARTS'  HAVEN.  Illustrated  by  Helen  Mason  Grose. 

INSTEAD  OF  THE  THORN.     With  frontispiece. 

THE  RIGHT  TRACK.     With  frontispiece  in  color. 

THE  GOLDEN   DOG.     Illustrated  in  color. 

THE  INNER  FLAME.     With  frontispiece  in  color. 

CLEVER  BETSY.     Illustrated. 

FLUTTERFLY.     Illustrated. 

THE  LEAVEN  OF  LOVE.     With  frontispiece  in  color. 

THE  QUEST  FLOWER.     Illustrated. 

THE   OPENED    SHUTTERS.       With   frontispiece  in 

color. 

JEWEL:  A   CHAPTER    IN    HER    LiFE.     Illustrated. 
JEWEL'S    STORY  BOOK.     Illustrated. 
THE  RIGHT  PRINCESS. 
MISS  PRITCHARD'S  WEDDING  TRIP. 
YOUNG  MAIDS  AND  OLD. 
DEARLY  BOUGHT. 
NO  GENTLEMEN. 
A  SANE  LUNATIC. 
NEXT  DOOR. 

THE  MISTRESS  OF  BEECH  KNOLL. 
MISS  BAGG'S  SECRETARY. 
DR.  LATIMER. 

SWEET  CLOVER.      A  Romance  of  the  White  City. 
THE  WISE  WOMAN. 
MISS  ARCHER  ARCHER. 
A  GREAT  LOVE.     A  Novel. 
A  WEST  POINT  WOO  ING,  and  Other  Storiei. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


Lifted  the  Girl  in  after  it  (page  170) 


In  Apple-Blossom  Time 

A  Fairy-Tale  to  Date 

By 
CLARA  LOUISE  BURNHAM 

With  Illustrations 


Boston  and  New  York 
Houghton  Mifflin  Company 
(Cfre  fttoerjrt&e  pre 
1919 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  BY  CLARA  LOUISE  BURNHAM 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


I.  The  Princess  I 

II.  The  Ogre  10 

III.  The  Prince  33 

IV.  The  Good  Fairy  49 
Vi  The  New  Help  77 

VI.  The  Dwarf  96 

VII.  A  Midnight  Message  119 

VIII.  The  Meadow  137 

IX.  The  Bird  of  Prey  158 

X.  The  Palace  179 

XI.  Mother  and  Son  203 

XII.  The  Transformation  226 

XIII.  The  Goddess  243 

XIV.  The  Mermaid  Shop  265 
XV.  The  Clouds  Disperse  288 

XVI.  Apple  Blossoms  311 


•ILLUSTRATIONS 

Lifted  the  Girl  in  after  it  Frontispiece 

Tingling  with  the  Increasing  Desire  to 
knock  down  his  Host  and  catch  this 
Girl  up  in  his  Arms  114 

"Geraldine  Melody  belongs  to  me.  Her 
father  gave  her  to  me  "  300 

Drawn  by  B.  Morgan  Dennis 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 
IN  THE  ORDER  OF  THEIR  APPEARANCE 

The  Good  Fairy  Mehitable  Upton 

The  Princess  Geraldine  Melody 

The  Ogre  Rufus  Carder 

The  Dwarf  Pete 

The  Slave  Mrs.  Carder 

The  Prince  Benjamin  Barry 

The  Grouch  Charlotte  Whipp 

The  Queen  Mrs.  Barry 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM 
TIME 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  PRINCESS 

Miss  MEHITABLE  UPTON  had  come  to  the 
city  to  buy  a  stock  of  goods  for  the  summer 
trade.  She  had  a  little  shop  at  the  fashion 
able  resort  of  Keefeport  as  well  as  one  in  the 
village  of  Keefe,  and  June  was  approaching. 
It  would  soon  be  time  to  move. 

Miss  Upton's  extreme  portliness  had 
caused  her  hours  of  laborious  selection  to 
fatigue  her  greatly.  Her  face  was  scarlet 
as  she  entered  a  popular  restaurant  to  seek 
rest  and  refreshment.  She  trudged  with  all 
the  celerity  possible  toward  the  only  empty 
table,  her  face  expressing  wearied  eager 
ness  to  reach  that  desirable  haven  before 
any  one  else  espied  it. 

Scarcely  had  she  eased  herself  down  into 
the  complaining  chair,  however,  before  a 
reason  for  the  unpopularity  of  this  table 

I 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

appeared.  A  steady  draught  blew  across  it 
strong  enough  to  wave  the  ribbons  on  her 
hat. 

"This  won't  do  at  all,"  muttered  Miss 
Mehitable.  "I'm  all  of  a  sweat." 

She  looked  about  among  the  busy  hungry 
horde,  and  her  eye  alighted  on  a  table  at 
which  a  young  girl  sat  alone. 

"Bet  she'll  hate  to  see  me  comin',  but 
here  goes,"  she  added,  slipping  the  straps  of 
her  bag  up  on  her  arm  and  grasping  the  sides 
of  the  table  with  both  hands. 

Ben  Barry  was  wont  to  say:  "When 
Mehit  is  about  to  rise  and  flee,  it's  a  case  of 
Yo  heave  ho,  my  hearties.  All  hands  to  the 
ropes."  But  then  it  was  notorious  that 
Ben's  bump  of  reverence  was  an  intaglio. 

Miss  Upton  got  to  her  feet  and  started  on 
her  trip,  her  eyes  expressing  renewed  anxiety. 

A  lantern-faced,  round-shouldered  man, 
whose  ill-fitting  clothes,  low  collar  several 
sizes  too  large,  and  undecided  manner  sug 
gested  that  he  was  a  visitor  from  the  rural 
districts,  happened  to  be  starting  for  the 
young  girl's  table  at  the  same  moment. 

Miss  Upton  perceived  his  intention. 

"Let  him  set  in  the  draught,"  she  thought. 
2 


THE  PRINCESS 


"He  don't  look  as  if  he'd  ever  been  het  up 
in  his  life." 

With  astonishing  swiftness  her  balloon- 
like  form  took  on  an  extra  sprint.  The  man 
became  aware  of  her  object  and  they  arrived 
at  the  coveted  haven  nearly  simultaneously. 

Miss  Mehitable's  umbrella  decided  the 
victory.  She  deftly  moved  it  to  where  a 
hurdle  would  have  intervened  for  her  rival 
in  their  foot-race,  and  the  preoccupied  girl 
at  the  table  looked  up  somewhat  startled  as 
a  red  face  atop  a  portly  figure  met  her  brown 
eyes  in  triumph.  The  girl  glanced  at  the 
defeated  competitor  and  took  in  the  situa 
tion.  The  man  scowled  at  Mehitable's  um 
brella  planted  victoriously  beside  its  owner 
and  his  thin  lips  expressed  his  impatience 
most  unbecomingly.  Then  he  caught  sight 
of  the  vacant  table  and  started  for  that  with 
the  haste  which,  like  many  predecessors,  he 
was  to  find  unnecessary. 

"I'm  sorry  to  disturb  you,"  said  Miss 
Upton,  still  excited  from  her  Marathon, 
"but  you'd  have  had  him  if  you  hadn't 
had  me." 

The  girl  was  a  sore-hearted  maiden,  and 
the  geniality  and  good-humor  in  the  jolly 

3 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

face  opposite  had  the  effect  of  a  cheery  fire 
in  a  gloomy  and  desolate  room. 

"I  would  much  rather  have  you,"  she 
replied.  "I  could  n't  have  sat  opposite  that 
Adam's  apple." 

Miss  Mehitable  laughed.  "He  was  n't 
pretty,  was  he?"  she  replied;  "and  wasn't 
he  mad,  though?" 

Then  she  became  aware  that  if  the  disap 
pointed  man  had  not  been  prepossessing, 
her  present  companion  was  so.  A  quantity 
of  golden  hair,  a  fine  pink-and-white  skin, 
with  dark  eyebrows,  eyes,  and  lashes,  were 
generous  gifts  of  Nature;  and  the  curves  of 
the  grave  little  mouth  were  very  charming. 
The  girl's  plain  dark  suit  and  simple  hat,  and 
above  all  her  shrinking,  cast-down  demeanor 
made  her  appear  careless,  even  unaware  of 
these  advantages,  and  Miss  Mehitable  no 
ticed  this  at  once. 

"Hasn't  the  child  got  a  looking-glass?" 
she  thought;  and  even  as  she  thought  it  and 
took  the  menu  she  observed  a  tear  gather  on 
the  dark  lashes  opposite. 

As  the  girl  wiped  it  away  quickly,  she 
glanced  up  and  saw  the  look  of  kindly  con 
cern  in  her  neighbor's  face. 

4 


THE  PRINCESS 


"I'd  rather  you  would  be  the  one  to  see 
me  cry,  too,"  she  said.  "I  can't  help  it," 
she  added  desperately.  "They  just  keep 
coming  and  coming  no  matter  what  I  do, 
and  I  must  eat." 

"  Well,  now,  I  'm  real  sorry."  Miss  Upton's 
hearty  sincerity  was  a  sort  of  consolation. 
After  she  had  given  her  luncheon  order  she 
spoke  again  to  her  vis-a-vis  who  was  val 
iantly  swallowing. 

"Do  your  folks  live  here  in  town?"  she 
asked  in  the  tone  one  uses  toward  a  grieving 
child. 

"Oh,  if  I  had  folks!"  returned  the  other. 
"Do  people  who  have  folks  ever  cry?" 

"Why,  you  poor  child,"  said  Miss  Mehit- 
able.  For  the  girl  caught  her  lower  lip  under 
her  teeth  and  for  a  minute  it  seemed  that 
she  was  not  going  to  be  able  to  weather  the 
crisis  of  her  emotion:  but  her  self-control 
was  equal  to  the  emergency  and  she  bit  down 
the  battling  sob.  Miss  Mehitable  saw  the 
struggle  and  refrained  from  speaking  for  a 
few  minutes.  Her  luncheon  arrived  and  she 
broke  open  a  roll.  She  continued  to  send 
covert  glances  at  the  young  girl  who  indus 
triously  buttered  small  pieces  of  bread  and 

5 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

put  them  into  her  unwilling  mouth,  and 
drank  from  a  glass  of  milk. 

When  Miss  Upton  thought  it  was  safe  to 
address  her  again,  she  spoke:  "Who  have 
you  got  to  take  care  of  you,  then?"  she 
asked. 

"Nobody,"  was  the  reply,  but  the  girl 
spoke  steadily  now.  Apparently  she  had 
summoned  the  calm  of  desperation. 

"Why,  that  don't  seem  possible,"  re 
turned  Miss  Mehitable,  and  her  voice  and 
manner  were  full  of  such  sympathetic  in 
terest  that  the  forlorn  one  responded  again; 
this  time  with  a  long  look  of  gratitude  that 
seemed  to  sink  right  down  through  Miss 
Upton's  solicitous  eyes  into  her  good  heart. 

"You're  a  kind  woman.  If  there  are  any 
girls  in  your  family  they  know  where  to  go 
for  comfort.  I  'm  sure  of  that." 

"There  ain't  any  girls  in  my  family.  I'm 
almost  without  folks  myself;  but  then,  I'm 
old  and  tough.  I  work  for  my  livin*.  I 
keep  a  little  store." 

"That  is  what  I  wanted  to  do  —  work  for 
my  living,"  said  the  girl.  "I've  tried  my 
best."  Again  for  a  space  she  caught  her  lip 
under  her  teeth.  "First  I  tried  the  stores; 

6 


THE  PRINCESS 


then  I  even  tried  service.  I  went  into  a 
family  as  a  waitress.  I "  —  she  gave  a  de 
termined  swallow  —  "I  suppose  there  must 
be  some  good  men  in  the  world,  but  I 
have  n't  found  any." 

Miss  Upton's  small  eyes  gave  their  widest 
stare  and  into  them  came  understanding  and 
indignation. 

"I'm  discouraged"  —  said  the  girl,  and 
a  hard  tone  came  into  her  low  voice  — 
"discouraged  enough  to  end  it  all." 

"Now  —  now  —  don't  you  talk  that  way," 
stammered  Miss  Mehitable.  "I  s'pose  it's 
because  you  're  so  pretty." 

"Yes,"  returned  the  girl  disdainfully.  "I 
despise  my  looks." 

"Now,  see  here,  child,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Upton,  prolonging  her  troubled  stare,  "per 
haps  Providence  helped  me  nearly  trip  up 
that  slab-sided  gawk.  Perhaps  I  set  down 
here  for  a  purpose.  Desperate  folks  cling  to 
straws.  I  'm  the  huskiest  straw  you  ever  saw, 
and  I  might  be  able  to  give  you  some  advice. 
At  least  I've  got  an  old  head  and  you've 
got  a  young  one,  bless  your  poor  little  heart. 
Why  don't  we  go  somewheres  where  we  can 
talk  when  we're  through  eating?" 

7 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"You're  very  good  to  take  an  interest," 
replied  the  girl. 

"I'm  as  poor  as  Job's  turkey,"  went  on 
Miss  Upton,  "and  I  haven't  got  much  to 
give  you  but  advice." 

The  girl  leaned  across  the  table.  "Yes, 
you  have,"  she  said,  her  soft  dark  eyes  ex 
pressive.  "Kindness.  Generosity.  A  warm 
heart." 

"Well,  then,  you  come  with  me  some 
place  where  we  can  talk;  but,"  with  sudden 
cheerfulness,  "let's  have  some  ice-cream 
first.  Don't  you  love  it?  I  ought  to  run  a 
mile  from  the  sight  of  it;  and  these  fried 
potatoes  I've  just  been  eatin'  too.  I've  no 
business  to  look  at  'em;  but  when  I  come  to 
town  I  just  kick  over  the  traces.  I  forget 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  Graham  bread  and  I 
just  have  one  good  time." 

She  laughed  and  the  young  girl  regarded 
her  wistfully. 

"  It 's  a  pity  you  have  n't  any  daughters," 
she  said. 

"I  haven't  even  any  husband,"  was  the 
cheerful  response,  "and  I  never  shall  have 
now,  so  why  should  I  worry  over  my  waist 
line?  Queen  Victoria  had  one  the  same  size 

8 


THE   PRINCESS 


and  everybody  respected  her.  Now  I'm 
goin'  to  order  the  ice-cream.  That's  my 
treat  as  a  proof  that  you  and  I  are  friends. 
My  name  is  Upton.  What's  yours,  my 
dear?" 

"Melody." 

"First  or  last?" 

"Last.    Geraldine  Melody." 

"It's  a  nazuful  pretty  name,"  declared 
Miss  Upton  impressively.  "There  ain't  any 
discord  in  melody.  Now  you  take  courage. 
Which '11  you  have?  Chocolate  or  straw 
berry?" 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  OGRE 

IT  proved  that  Miss  Upton's  new  acquain 
tance  had  an  appointment  later  at  a  hotel 
near  by,  so  thither  they  repaired  when  the 
ice-cream  was  finished. 

"Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Miss 
Mehitable  encouragingly,  when  they  had 
found  the  vacant  corner  of  a  reception-room 
and  sat  down  side  by  side. 

"I  feel  like  holding  on  to  you  and  not  let 
ting  you  go,"  said  the  girl,  looking  about 
apprehensively. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  the  folks  you're  goin' 
to  meet  here  ?  Is  it  another  job  you  're  lookin' 
for?  I  can  tell  you  right  now,"  added  Miss 
Mehitable  firmly,  "that  I'm  goin'  to  stay 
and  see  what  they  look  like  if  I  lose  every 
train  out  to  Keefe." 

"You  are  so  good,"  said  the  girl  wistfully. 
"Are  you  always  so  kind  to  strangers?" 

"When  they're  a  hundred  times  too  pretty 
and  as  young  as  you  are  I  am,"  returned 

10 


THE  OGRE 


Miss  Upton  promptly;  "but  this  is  my  first 
experience.  What  sort  of  position  are  you 
try  in'  for  now?" 

"I  don't  know  what  to  call  it,"  replied 
Geraldine,  with  another  apprehensive  look 
toward  the  door.  "General  utility,  I  hope." 
She  looked  back  at  her  companion.  "When 
my  father  died,  it  left  me  alone  in  the  world; 
for  my  stepmother  is  the  sort  that  lives  in 
the  fairy  tales;  not  the  loving  kind  who  are 
in  real  life.  I  know  a  girl  who  has  the  dearest 
stepmother.  I  was  fourteen  years  old  when 
my  father  married  again.  My  mother  had 
been  dead  for  three  years.  I  was  an  only 
child  and  had  always  lived  at  home,  but  my 
stepmother  did  n't  want  me.  She  persuaded 
my  father  to  send  me  away  to  school.  I 
think  Daddy  never  had  any  happiness  after 
he  married  her.  He  had  always  been  very 
extravagant  and  easy-going.  While  my 
precious  mother  lived  she  helped  him  and 
guided  him,  and  although  I  was  only  a  little 
girl  I  always  believed  he  married  again  be 
cause  he  was  greatly  embarrassed  for  money. 
This  woman  appeared  to  have  plenty  and 
she  was  so  in  love  with  him!  If  you  had 
seen  him,  I  think  you  would  have  said  he 

ii 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

was  a  hundred  times  too  handsome.  Well, 
from  what  I  could  see  at  vacation  time  she 
was  never  sufficiently  in  love  with  him  to  let 
him  have  her  money;  and  I  am  sure  the  last 
years  of  his  life  were  wretched  and  full  of 
hard  places  because  of  his  financial  ill-suc 
cess.  Poor  father."  The  girl's  voice  failed 
and  she  waited,  looking  down  at  the  gloved 
hands  in  her  lap.  "I  had  been  at  home  from 
school  only  a  few  months  when  he  died," 
she  went  on.  "My  stepmother  endured  me 
and  that  was  all.  She  is  a  quite  young 
woman,  very  fond  of  gayety,  and  she  made 
me  feel  that  I  was  very  much  in  her  way  no 
matter  how  hard  I  tried  to  keep  out  of  it." 

"I'll  bet  you  were,"  put  in  Miss  Upton 
sotlo  voce. 

"As  soon  as  my  dear  father  was  gone  she 
threw  off  all  disguise  to  her  impatience.  She 
put  on  very  becoming  mourning  and  said 
she  wanted  to  travel.  She  said  my  father 
had  left  nothing,  but  that  I  was  young  and 
could  easily  get  a  position.  She  broke  up 
the  home,  found  a  cheap  room  for  me  to 
lodge,  gave  me  a  little  money  and  went 
away."  Again  Geraldine's  voice  broke  and 
she  stopped. 

12 


THE  OGRE 


"You  poor  child,"  said  Miss  Upton;  "to 
try  as  you  have  and  find  all  your  efforts 
failures!" 

"My  stepmother  has  some  relatives  who 
live  on  a  farm,"  went  on  the  girl.  "Before 
my  father  died  we  three  had  one  talk  which 
it  always  sickens  me  to  remember.  My 
stepmother  was  saying  that  it  was  high  time 
I  went  out  into  the  world  and  did  something 
for  my  own  support.  My  father  perhaps 
knew  that  he  was  very  ill;  but  we  did  not. 
His  death  came  suddenly.  That  day  while 
my  stepmother  talked  he  walked  the  floor 
casting  troubled  looks  at  me  and  I  knew  she 
was  hurting  him.  '  Everybody  should  be 
where  she  can  be  of  some  use,'  said  my 
stepmother.  'I  think  the  Carder  farm 
would  be  a  fine  place  for  Geraldine,  and 
after  all  Rufus  Carder  has  done  for  you  I 
should  think  you  'd  be  glad  to  send  her  out 
there.' 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  light  that  came 
into  Daddy's  eyes  as  he  stopped  and  turned 
on  her.  'What  Rufus  Carder  has  done  for 
me  is  what  the  icy  sidewalk  does  for  the  man 
who  trips,'  he  answered.  My  stepmother 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  'That  was  your 

13 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

own  weakness,  then,'  she  said.  'I  think  a 
more  appropriate  simile  for  Rufus  would  be 
the  bridge  that  carried  you  over!'  Her 
voice  was  so  cold  and  contemptuous !  Daddy 
came  to  me  and  there  was  despair  in  his  face. 
He  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  while  she 
went  on  talking:  'Many  times  since  the  day 
that  Rufus  saw  Geraldine  in  the  park,'  she 
said,  'he  has  told  me  they  would  be  glad  to 
have  her  come  out  to  the  farm  and  live  with 
them.  I  think  you  ought  to  send  her.  She 
is  n't  needed  here  and  they  really  do  need 
somebody.'  The  desperate  look  in  my 
father's  face  wrung  my  heart.  He  did  not 
look  at  my  stepmother  nor  answer  her;  but 
just  gazed  into  my  eyes  and  said  over  and 
over  softly,  'Forgive  me,  Gerrie.  Forgive 
me.'  I  took  his  hands  in  mine  and  told 
him  I  had  nothing  to  forgive."  The  young 
girl  choked. 

When  she  could  go  on  she  spoke  again: 
"A  couple  of  days  after  that  he  died.  My 
stepmother  was  angry  because  he  left  no  life 
insurance,  and  she  talked  to  me  again  about 
going  to  work,  and  again  brought  up  the 
subject  of  the  Carder  farm.  She  tried  to 
flatter  me  by  talking  of  her  cousin's  admira- 

H 


THE  OGRE 


tion  of  me  the  day  he  saw  me  in  the  park. 
I  told  her  I  could  not  bear  to  go  to  people 
who  had  not  been  kind  to  my  father,  and 
she  replied  that  what  Daddy  had  said  that 
day  must  have  been  caused  by  his  illness, 
for  Rufus  Carder  had  befriended  him  times 
without  number." 

The  girl  lifted  her  appealing  eyes  to  Miss 
Upton's  face  as  she  continued:  "Of  course 
I  knew  that  my  dear  father  had  been  weak 
and  I  could  n't  contradict  her;  so  after  try 
ing  and  failing,  trying  and  failing  many 
times,  as  I've  told  you,  I  came  to  feel  that 
the  farm  might  be  the  right  place  for  me 
after  all.  Work  is  the  only  thing  I'm  not 
afraid  of  now.  It  must  be  a  forlorn  place  if 
they  need  help  and  can't  get  it.  I  think 
they  said  he  and  his  mother  live  alone, 
but  I  shan't  care  how  forlorn  it  is  if  only 
Mrs.  Carder  is  like  —  like  —  you,  for  in 
stance!"  The  girl  laid  her  hand  impulsively 
on  her  companion's  knee. 

At  that  moment  a  man  appeared  in  the 
wide  doorway  to  the  reception-room  and 
looked  about  uncertainly.  Instantly  Miss 
Upton  recognized  the  long,  weather-beaten 
face,  the  straggling  hair,  the  half-open 

15 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

mouth,  and  the  revealing  collar  of  her 
restaurant  rival. 

She  gave  her  companion  a  mirthful  nudge. 

"He's  right  on  my  trail,  you  see,"  she 
whispered.  "Adam's  apple  and  all." 

Geraldine  glanced  up  and  the  stranger's 
roving  gaze  fell  straight  upon  hers.  He 
came  toward  her. 

"Miss  Melody?"  he  said  in  a  rasping 
voice. 

She  rose  as  if  impelled  by  some  inner 
spring,  her  light  disdain  swallowed  in  dread. 

"This  is  Mr.  Carder,  then,"  she  returned. 

"You've  guessed  right  the  very  first 
time,"  responded  the  man  with  an  air  of 
relief.  "I  recognize  you  now,  but  you  look 
some  different  from  the  only  other  time  I 
ever  saw  you." 

"This  is  Miss  Upton,  Mr.  Carder,  a  lady 
who  has  befriended  me  very  kindly  while  I 
have  been  waiting  for  you." 

"Yes,  and  who  prevented  me  from  havin' 
lunch  with  you,"  responded  the  stranger, 
eying  Miss  Upton  jocosely;  but  as  if  he 
could  not  spare  time  from  the  near  survey 
of  Geraldine  his  eyes  again  swept  over  her 
hair  and  crimsoning  cheeks.  "I  thought  I 

16 


THE  OGRE 


felt  some  strong  drawin'  toward  that  partic 
ular  table,"  he  added.  "Well,  we'll  make 
up  for  it  in  the  future  you  can  bet.  That 
your  bag  here?  We'd  better  be  runnin' 
along.  Time,  tide,  and  business  don't  wait 
for  any  man.  Good-bye,  Miss  Upton,  I'll 
forgive  you  for  takin'  my  place,  considerin' 
you  've  been  good  to  this  little  girl." 

Miss  Mehitable's  face  was  as  solemn  as 
lies  in  the  power  of  round  faces  to  be.  At 
close  quarters  one  observed  a  cast  in  Mr. 
Carder's  right  eye.  She  disapproved  his 
assured  proprietary  air  and  she  disapproved 
him  the  more  that  she  could  see  repulsion 
in  the  young  girl's  suddenly  pale  counte 
nance.  She  had  time  for  only  one  strong 
pressure  of  a  little  hand  before  Geraldine 
was  whisked  away  and  she  was  left  standing 
there  stunned  by  the  suddenness  of  it  all. 

"I  never  asked  where  it  was!"  she  ejac 
ulated  suddenly.  "I've  lost  the  child!" 
People  began  to  look  at  her  and  she  continued 
mentally:  "The  critter  looked  as  if  he 
wanted  to  eat  her  up,  the  poor  little  lamb. 
Unless  the  mother's  something  different 
from  the  son  she'll  be  driven  to  desperation. 
No  knowin'  what  she'll  do."  Miss  Upton 

17 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

clasped  her  plump  hands  together  in  great 
trouble  of  spirit.  "I  believe  I  said  Keefe 
more'n  once.  Perhaps  she'll  have  sense 
enough  to  write  to  me.  Why  did  n't  I  just 
tell  that  old  rawbones  that  her  plans  was 
changed  and  she  was  goin'  with  me.  Oh, 
I  am  a  fool!  I  don't  know  what  I'd  have 
done  with  her;  but  some  way  would  have 
opened.  Let's  see.  Where  am  I!"  Miss 
Upton  delved  distractedly  into  the  large 
bag  that  hung  on  her  arm.  "Where's  my 
list?  Am  I  through  or  not?"  She  seemed 
to  herself  to  have  lived  long  since  her 
wearied  entrance  into  that  restaurant. 

In  her  uneventful  life  this  brief  experience 
took  deep  hold  on  her  imagination.  As 
she  rode  out  to  Keefe  on  the  train  that 
afternoon  she  constructed  the  scenes  of  the 
story  in  her  mind. 

The  weak,  handsome,  despairing  father 
begging  his  child's  forgiveness.  The  dis 
mantling  of  the  home.  The  placing  of 
Geraldine  in  a  cheap  lodging  while  her 
father's  widow  shed  all  responsibility  of  her 
and  set  forth  in  new  raiment  for  green  fields 
and  pastures  new. 

The  shabby  and  carelessly  put  on  suit  in 
18 


THE  OGRE 


which  Geraldine  had  appeared  this  morning 
told  a  tale.  The  girl  had  said  she  despised 
her  looks.  Her  appearance  had  borne  out 
the  declaration.  The  lovely  hair  had  been 
brushed  tightly  back;  the  old  hat  would  have 
been  unbecoming  if  it  could:  all  seemed  to 
testify  that  if  the  girl  could  have  had  her 
way  not  an  element  of  attractiveness  would 
have  been  observable  in  her.  Miss  Upton 
waxed  indignant  as  she  went  on  to  picture 
the  probable  scenes  which  had  frightened 
and  disgusted  the  child  into  such  an  abnor 
mal  frame  of  mind.  The  memory  of  Rufus 
Carder's  gaze,  as  his  oblique  eye  had  feasted 
upon  his  guest,  brought  the  blood  to  Miss 
Mehitable's  face. 

"I'll  find  out  where  she  is  if  I  have  to 
employ  a  detective,"  she  thought,  setting  her 
lips.  "Now  there's  no  use  in  bein'  a  fool," 
she  muttered  after  a  little  more  apprehen 
sive  thought.  "I  shall  get  daffy  if  I  go  on 
thinkin'  about  it.  I'll  do  my  accounts  and 
see  if  I  can  take  my  mind  off  it." 

Meanwhile  Geraldine  with  her  escort  was 
also  on  a  moving  train.  A  creeping  train  it 
seemed  to  her.  Rufus  Carder  was  trying 

19 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

to  make  himself  agreeable.  She  strove  with 
herself  to  give  him  credit  for  that.  She  had 
not  lived  to  be  a  nineteen-year-old  school 
girl  without  meeting  attractive  young  men. 
Her  stepmother  had  always  kept  her  in  the 
background  at  times  when  it  was  impossible 
to  eliminate  her  altogether,  quite,  as  Ger- 
aldine  had  said,  like  the  stepmother  of  a 
fairy  tale;  but  there  had  been  holidays  with 
school  friends  and  an  occasional  admirer; 
although  these  cases  had  been  rare  because 
Geraldine,  always  kept  on  short  allowance 
as  to  money  and  clothes,  avoided  as  much 
as  possible  social  affairs  outside  the  school. 

She  tried  now  to  find  amusement  instead 
of  mental  paralysis  in  the  proximity  of  her 
present  escort,  contrasting  him  with  some 
men  she  had  known;  but  recent  bitter  ex 
periences  made  his  probably  well-intentioned 
familiarities  sorely  trying.  There  was  a  lump 
in  his  cheek.  Geraldine  hoped  it  arose  from 
an  afflicted  tooth,  but  she  strongly  suspected 
tobacco.  Oh,  if  he  would  but  sit  a  little 
farther  away  from  her! 

"  So  you  Ve  renounced  the  city,  the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devil,"  said  Rufus  when 
the  conductor  had  left  them,  and  he  settled 

20 


THE  OGRE 


down  in  an  attitude  that  brought  his  shoulder 
in  contact  with  Geraldine's. 

She  drew  closer  to  the  window  and  kept 
her  eyes  ahead.  "He  is  as  old  as  Father," 
she  thought.  "He  means  to  be  kind." 

"There  is  not  much  chance  for  those  at 
school,"  she  replied.  "School  is  about  all 
I  know." 

"Well,  you  don't  need  to  know  anything 
else,"  returned  Rufus  protectingly.  "I'll 
bet  Juliet  kept  you  out  of  sight."  He 
laughed,  and  his  companion  turning  saw 
that  he  had  been  bereft  of  a  front  tooth. 

"I  didn't  see  very  much  of  my  step 
mother,"  she  answered  in  the  same  stiff 
manner. 

"I'll  bet  you  didn't,"  declared  Rufus, 
"not  when  she  saw  you  first."  Again  he 
laughed,  convinced  that  his  companion  must 
enjoy  the  implication. 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  been  away  from  home 
at  school  for  several  years,"  said  the  girl 
coldly. 

"Oh,  I  know  where  you  have  been,  and 
why,  and  when,  and  just  how  long,  and  all 
about  it."  The  tone  of  this  was  quiet,  but 
there  was  something  disquieting  to  Ger- 

21 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

aldine  in  his  manner.  "Perhaps  you  did  n't 
know,"  he  added  after  a  pause  filled  by  the 
crescendos  and  diminuendos  of  the  speeding 
train,  "that  your  father  and  I  were  pretty 
thick."  At  this  the  girl's  head  turned  and 
her  eyes  raised  to  his  questioningly.  "Yes," 
he  added,  receiving  the  look,  appreciative 
of  the  curves  of  the  long  lashes  and  lovely 
lips,  "I  don't  believe  anybody  knew  Dick 
Melody  better  than  I  did." 

"Do  you  mean,"  asked  the  girl,  "that 
you  were  fond  of  my  father?" 

Charming  as  her  self-forgetful,  earnest 
look  was,  her  companion  seemed  unable  to 
sustain  it.  He  gave  a  short  laugh  and 
turned  his  head  away. 

"My  wife  attended  to  that  part  of  it," 
he  replied. 

A  flash  of  relief  passed  over  Geraldine's 
face.  "Your  wife,"  she  repeated.  "I  —  I 
had  n't  heard  —  I  did  n't  know  —  I  thought 
the  Mrs.  Carder  they  mentioned  was  your 
mother." 

"She  is.  My  wife  died  nearly  a  year  ago, 
but  she  had  the  nerve  to  think  your  father 
was  handsomer  than  me."  The  speaker 
looked  back  at  his  companion  with  a  cheer- 

22 


THE  OGRE 


ful  grin.  "She  said  Dick  Melody 'd  ought 
to  be  set  up  on  a  pedestal  somewheres  to  be 
admired.  I  don't  know  as  bein'  good- 
lookin'  gets  a  man  anywhere.  What  good 
did  those  eyes  ever  do  him!" 

Geraldine  sank  closer  to  her  window. 
The  despair  in  those  eyes,  as  her  father 
begged  for  her  forgiveness,  rose  before  her. 
Never  had  she  felt  so  utterly  alone;  so 
utterly  friendless. 

"Yes,  I  say  leave  the  looks  to  the  women 
folks,"  pursued  Rufus  Carder,  feasting  his 
gaze  on  the  girl's  profile.  "When  Juliet 
set  out  to  get  Dick,  I  warned  her,  but  it 
was  n't  any  use.  She  had  to  have  him, 
and  she  knew  pretty  well  how  to  look  out 
for  herself.  I  guess  she  never  lost  anything 
by  the  deal." 

"Would  you  mind  not  talking  about 
them?"  said  Geraldine  stiffly. 

"Please  yourself  and  you'll  please  me  as  to 
what  we  talk  about,"  returned  Rufus  cheer 
fully.  "  Should  n't  wonder  if  you  were  pretty 
sore  at  Juliet.  Look  out  for  number  one  was 
her  motto  all  right."  A  glance  at  the  shrink 
ing  girl  showed  the  host  that  her  eyes  were 
closed.  "Tired,  ain't  you?"  he  added. 

23 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Dead  tired,"  she  answered.  And  as 
she  continued  to  keep  her  eyes  closed  he 
contented  himself  by  watching  the  lashes 
resting  on  her  pale  cheeks. 

"Ketch  a  little  nap  if  you  can,  that's 
right,"  he  said.  She  kept  silence. 

She  did  not  know  how  long  the  blessed 
relief  from  his  voice  had  lasted  when  he 
announced  their  arrival. 

"Be  it  ever  so  humble,"  he  remarked, 
"There's  no  place  like  home." 

To  have  him  get  out  of  the  seat  and  leave 
her  free  of  the  touch  of  his  garments  was  a 
blessing,  and  she  rose  to  follow  mechanically. 
The  eternal  hope  -that  dies  so  hard  in  the 
human  breast  was  suggesting  that  his  mother 
might  be  not  impossible;  and  at  any  rate  a 
farm  was  wide.  She  would  never  be  impris 
oned  in  a  car  seat  with  him  again. 

"There  now,  my  lady,"  he  said  trium 
phantly  when  they  were  on  the  platform.  "  I 
suppose  you  thought  you  were  comin'  to 
Rubeville.  That  don't  look  so  hay-seedy? 
Eh?" 

He  pointed  to  a  dusty  automobile  whose 
driver,  a  boy  of  eighteen  or  twenty,  with  a 
torn  hat,  eyed  her  with  dull  curiosity. 

24 


THE  OGRE 


"I  suppose  you  expected  a  one-hoss  shay. 
No,  indeedy.  You've  come  to  all  the  com 
forts  of  home,  little  girl."  His  airy  ge 
niality  of  tone  changed.  "What  you  starin* 
at,  you  coot?  Come  along  here,  Pete." 

The  boy  moved  the  car  toward  the  spot 
where  they  waited  with  their  bags. 

Rufus  put  these  in  at  the  front  and  him 
self  entered  the  tonneau  with  his  guest. 
His  conversation  as  they  sped  along  the 
country  road  consisted  mainly  of  pointing 
out  to  her  the  cottages  or  fields  owned 
by  himself.  The  information  fell  on  deaf 
ears.  The  roughness  of  her  host's  tone  to 
the  boy  added  one  more  item  against  him 
and  lessened  her  hope  that  the  woman  re 
sponsible  for  his  existence  could  be  a  better 
specimen. 

"I'm  free,"  thought  Geraldine  ever  and 
over.  "I  don't  need  to  stay  here."  Of 
course  the  proprietary  implication  in  every 
word  the  man  said  arose  simply  from  the 
conceit  of  a  boor.  She  would  be  patient  and 
self-controlled.  It  might  be  possible  still 
that  she  should  find  this  a  haven  where  she 
could  live  her  own  life  in  her  leisure  hours, 
few  though  they  might  be. 

25 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

It  was  with  a  weary  curiosity  that  she 
viewed  the  weather-beaten  house  toward 
which  they  finally  advanced.  In  front  of  it 
stood  an  elm-tree  whose  lower  branches 
swept  the  roof  of  the  porch. 

"That's  got  to  come  down,  that  tree," 
said  Rufus  meditatively. 

His  companion  turned  on  him.  "You 
would  cut  down  that  splendid  tree?" 

He  regarded  her  suddenly  vital  expression 
admiringly. 

"Why  not,  little  one?"  he  asked.  "It's 
makin'  the  house  damp  and  injurin'  prop 
erty.  Property,  you  understand.  Property. 
If  I'd  indulged  in  sentiment  do  you  s'pose 
I'd  be  owner  of  all  the  land  I've  been 
showin'  you  ? "  He  smiled,  the  semi-toothless 
smile,  and  met  her  horrified  upturned  eyes 
with  an  affectionate  gaze.  "However,  what 
you  say  goes,  little  girl.  You  look  as 
if  you  were  goin'  to  recite  —  'Woodman, 
spare  that  tree.'  Consider  the  tree  spared 
for  the  present." 

The  automobile  drew  up  at  the  house  and 
in  high  good-humor  the  master  jumped  out 
and  removed  Geraldine's  bag  to  the  steps  of 
the  narrow  piazza..  A  woman's  face  could 

26 


THE  OGRE 


be  seen  appearing  and  disappearing  at  the 
window,  and  Pete,  the  driver,  looked  with 
furtive  curiosity  at  the  guest  as  she  stepped 
to  the  porch  without  touching  the  host's 
outstretched  hand. 

Rufus  threw  open  the  door.  "Where 
are  you,  Ma?"  he  shouted,  and  a  thin, 
wrinkled  old  woman  came  into  the  corridor 
nervously  wiping  her  hands  on  her  apron. 

Geraldine  looked  at  her  eagerly. 

"Well,  you  have  to  take  us  as  you  find 
us,  little  girl,"  remarked  Rufus,  scowling  at 
his  parent.  "Ma  has  n't  even  taken  off 
her  apron  to  welcome  you." 

At  this  Mrs.  Carder  fumbled  at  her  apron 
strings,  but  Geraldine  advanced  to  her  and 
put  out  her  hand. 

"I  like  aprons,"  she  said;  and  the  old 
woman  took  the  hand  for  a  loose,  brief 
shake. 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Melody," 
she  said  timidly.  "I'm  glad  it  has  been  a 
pretty  day." 

"Show  her  her  room,  Ma,  and  then  per 
haps  she'd  like  some  tea.  City  folks,  you 
know,  must  have  their  tea." 

Geraldine  followed  her  hostess  with  alac- 
27 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

rity  as  she  went  up  the  narrow  stairway; 
glad  there  was  an  upstairs;  and  a  room  of 
her  own,  and  a  woman  to  speak  to. 

She  was  ushered  into  a  barely  furnished 
chamber;  a  bowl  and  pitcher  on  the  small 
wash-stand  seemed  to  indicate  that  modern 
improvements  had  not  penetrated  to  the 
Carder  farm. 

"I  s'pose  you'll  find  country  livin'  a 
great  change  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Carder, 
pulling  up  the  window  shade.  Geraldine 
wondered  how  in  this  beautiful  state  could 
have  been  found  such  a  treeless  tract 
of  land.  She  remembered  the  threatened 
fate  of  the  elm.  Perhaps  there  had  been 
other  destruction.  "My  son  never  seemed 
to  take  any  interest  in  puttin'  in  water 
here." 

The  girl  met  the  wrinkled  face.  The  ap 
prehension  in  the  old  eyes  under  Carder's 
scowl  had  given  place  to  curiosity. 

"I  have  come  to  help  you,"  said  Geraldine, 
"I  must  get  used  to  fewer  conveniences." 

"It's  nice  of  you  to  say  that,"  said  the 
old  woman,  "Rufus  don't  want  you  to  work 
much,  though." 

"But  of  course  I  shall,"  returned  the  girl 
28 


THE  OGRE 


quickly.     "I'm  much  better  able  to  work 
than  you  are." 

"Oh,  I've  got  a  wet  sink  this  year,"  said 
Mrs.  Carder.  "I  told  Rufus  I  just  had 
to  have  it.  I  was  gettin'  too  old  to 
haul  water." 

"I  should  think  so!"  exclaimed  Geraldine 
indignantly.  "Mr.  Carder  is  well  off.  He 
should  n't  allow  you  to  work  any  more  the 
rest  of  your  life." 

Mrs.  Carder  smiled  and  shook  her  head, 
revealing  her  own  need  of  dentistry.  "I'm 
stronger  than  I  look.  I  s'pose  if  I  was 
taken  out  of  harness  I  might  be  like  one  o' 
these  horses  that  drops  down  when  the 
shafts  don't  hold  him  up  any  longer." 

Geraldine  regarded  her  compassionately. 
"  I  Ve  heard  —  my  stepmother  told  me  it 
was  very  hard  for  you  to  get  help  out  here. 
I  suppose  it  is  lonely  for  maids." 

The  old  woman  regarded  her  strangely, 
and  her  withered  lips  compressed. 

"I  don't  mind  loneliness,"  went  on  Ger 
aldine  eagerly.  She  had  thrown  her  hat 
on  the  bed  and  the  gold  of  her  hair  shone  in 
the  mean  little  room.  "I  love  to  be  alone. 
I  long  to  be." 

29 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"That  ain't  natural,"  observed  Mrs. 
Carder,  regarding  her  earnest,  self-forgetful 
loveliness.  "Rufus  told  me  you  was  a 
beauty,"  she  went  on  reflectively.  "Your 
father  was  the  handsomest  man  I  ever 


saw." 


"You  knew  him,  then,"  said  Geraldine 
eagerly. 

"He  was  out  here  a  number  o'  times. 
Rufus  seemed  to  be  his  favorite  man  o* 
business,  as  you  might  say." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Carder,  tell  me  all  you  can 
about  his  visits  here."  The  girl's  heart  be 
gan  to  beat  faster  and  she  drew  the  clean, 
dried-up  old  woman  down  upon  the  edge  of 
the  bed  beside  her.  Why  should  her  father 
choose  this  dreadful  place,  this  impossible 
man  as  a  refuge?  It  could  only  have  been 
as  a  last  resort  for  him,  just  as  it  now  was 
for  her. 

"I  was  always  away  at  school  after  his 
marriage,"  she  went  on.  "I  saw  so  little  of 
him." 

Mrs.  Carder  looked  uneasy. 

"I  saw  nothin'  of  him  except  at  a  meal 
sometimes.  He  and  my  son  was  always 
shut  up  in  Rufus's  office." 

30 


THE  OGRE 


"Did  he  seem  —  seem  unhappy,  Mrs. 
Carder?" 

"Well  —  yes.  He  was  a  sort  of  an 
absent-minded  man.  Perhaps  that  was  his 
way.  Really,  I  don't  know  a  thing  about 
their  business,  Miss  Melody."  The  ad 
dition  was  made  in  sudden  panic  because 
the  girl  had  grasped  both  the  wrinkled 
hands  and  was  gazing  searchingly  into  the 
old  woman's  face  as  if  she  would  wring 
information  out  of  her. 

"You  would  n't  tell  me  if  you  did,"  said 
Geraldine  in  a  low  voice.  "You  are  afraid 
of  your  son.  I  saw  it  in  your  eyes  down 
stairs.  Had  my  father  reason  to  be  afraid 
of  him?  Tell  me  that.  That  is  what  I 
want  to  know." 

"Your  father  is  dead.  What  difference 
does  it  make?"  asked  the  old  woman,  look 
ing  from  side  to  side  as  if  for  a  means  of  es 
cape  from  the  strong  young  hands  and  eyes. 

"Yes,  poor  Daddy.  Well,  I  have  come 
to  help  you,  Mrs.  Carder."  The  speaker 
released  the  wrinkled  hands  and  the  old 
woman  rose  in  relief.  "I  have  come  to 
work  for  you,  not  for  your  son,  and  I  am 
not  going  to  be  afraid  of  him." 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

The  mother  shook  her  head. 

"We  all  work  for  him,  my  dear.  He 
holds  the  purse-strings." 

Geraldine  seemed  to  see  him  holding  the 
actual  bag  and  leering  at  her  over  it  with 
his  odious,  oblique  eye  and  smile. 

"And  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice," 
continued  the  old  woman,  lowering  her  voice 
and  looking  toward  the  door.  "Don't 
make  him  mad.  It's  terrible  when  he's 
angry."  She  winked  and  lowered  her  voice 
to  a  whisper.  "He's  crazy  about  you  and 
he's  the  biggest  man  in  the  county."  The 
old  woman  nodded  and  snapped  her  eyes 
knowingly.  "You've  got  a  home  here  for 
life  if  you  don't  make  him  mad.  For  life. 
I'll  go  down  and  make  the  tea.  You  come 
down  pretty  soon." 

She  disappeared,  leaving  Geraldine  stand 
ing  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  She  looked 
about  her  at  the  cheap,  meager  furniture, 
the  small  mirror  that  distorted  her  face,  the 
bare  outlook  from  the  window. 

"For  life!"  she  repeated  to  herself.  "For 
life!" 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  PRINCE 

Miss  UPTON'S  accounts  were  still  in  a  muddle 
when  she  reached  Keefe.  Try  as  she  might 
her  unruly  thoughts  would  wander  back  to 
the  golden  hair  and  dark,  wistful  eyes  of  that 
forlorn  girl. 

"I  was  such  a  fool  to  lose  her!"  she  kept 
saying  to  herself.  "Such  a  fool." 

Arrived  at  her  station  she  left  the  car, 
encumbered  by  her  bulging  bag  and  the 
umbrella  which  had  performed  a  nobler 
deed  to-day  than  keeping  off  the  rain. 

"I  don't  know,  though,"  soliloquized 
Miss  Mehitable.  "If  I  hadn't  had  my 
umbrella  I  couldn't  have  stopped  him  and 
he'd  have  sat  with  her  and  I  should  n't  be 
havin'  a  span-tod  now." 

From  the  car  in  front  of  her  she  saw 
descend  a  young  man  with  a  bag.  He  was 
long-legged,  lean  and  broad-shouldered,  and 
Miss  Upton,  who  had  known  him  all  his 
life,  estimated  him  temperately  as  a  mix 
ture  of  Adonis,  Apollo,  and  Hercules.  He 

33 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

caught  sight  of  his  friend  now  and  a  merry 
look  came  into  his  eyes.  Miss  Mehitable's 
mental  perturbation  and  physical  weariness 
had  given  her  plump  face  a  troubled  cast, 
accented  by  the  fact  that  her  hat  was 
slightly  askew.  The  young  man  hurried 
forward  and  was  in  time  to  ease  his  portly 
friend  down  the  last  step  of  her  car. 

"Howdy, Miss  Mehit ? "  he  said.  "You  look 
as  if  the  great  city  had  n't  treated  you  well." 

"Ben  Barry,  was  you  on  this  train?"  she 
asked  dismally. 

"I  was.  My  word,  you're  careful  of 
your  complexion!  An  umbrella  with  such  a 
sky  as  this!" 

"You  don't  know  what  that  umbrella  has 
meant  to  me  to-day,"  returned  Miss  Upton 
with  no  abatement  of  the  portentous  in  her 
tone.  "Let  me  have  my  bag,  Ben.  The 
top  don't  shut  very  good  and  you  might 
drop  something  out." 

"You  must  let  me  take  you  home,"  he 
said.  "You  don't  look  fit  to  walk.  You 
have  certainly  had  a  big  day.  Anything 
left  in  the  shops?  The  Upton  Emporium 
must  be  going  to  surprise  the  natives." 

As  he  talked,  the  young  man  led  his  friend 
34 


THE   PRINCE 


along  the  platform  to  where  a  handsome 
motor  waited  among  the  dusty  line  of 
vehicles.  "Gee,  I'm  off  for  a  vacation  and 
I'm  beginning  to  appreciate  Keefe,  Miss 
Upton.  The  air  is  great  out  here." 

"That's  nice  for  your  mother,"  observed 
Miss  Mehitable  wearily. 

They  both  greeted  the  chauffeur,  who 
wore  a  plain  livery.  Miss  Upton  sank  back 
among  the  cushions.  " It's  awful  good  of  you 
to  take  me  home,  Ben.  I  'm  just  beat  out." 

"Miss  Upton's  celebrated  notions,  I  sup 
pose,"  returned  the  young  fellow  as  the  car 
started.  "They  get  harder  to  select  every 
year,  perhaps." 

"I've  come  home  with  just  one  notion 
this  time,"  returned  his  companion  with  sud 
den  fierceness.  "It  is  that  I'm  a  fool." 

"Now,  Mehit,  don't  tell  me  you've  fallen 
a  prey  in  the  gay  metropolis  and  lost  a  lot 
of  money." 

"That's  nothin'  to  what  has  happened. 
I'm  poor  and  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do  if  I 
lost  money,  but,  Ben  Barry,  it's  much  worse 
than  that." 

"Look  here,  you're  scaring  me.  I'm 
timid." 

35 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"If  I'd  seen  you  on  the  train  I  could  have 
told  you  all  about  it;  but  there  is  n't  time 
now."  In  fact  the  motor  was  rapidly  trav 
ersing  the  short  distance  up  the  main  street 
and  was  now  approaching  a  shop  on  the 
elm-shaded  trolley  track  which  bore  across 
its  front  a  sign  reading:  "Upton's  Notions 
and  Fancy  Goods." 

Before  Miss  Mehitable  disembarked,  and 
this  was  a  matter  of  some  moments,  she 
turned  wistfully  to  her  companion. 

"Ben,  do  you  think  your  mother  ever 
gets  lonely?" 

"I've  never  seen  any  sign  of  it.  Why? 
What  were  you  thinking  of  —  that  I  ought 
to  give  up  the  law  school  and  come  home 
and  turn  market-gardener?  I  sometimes 
think  I'd  like  it." 

Miss  Upton  continued  to  study  his  clean- 
cut  face  wistfully. 

"Don't  she  need  a  secretary,  or  a  sort  of 
a  —  a  sort  of  a  companion?" 

"Why?  Have  you  had  about  as  much  of 
Bright-Eyes  as  you  can  stand?  Do  you 
want  to  make  a  present  of  her  to  some  un 
deserving  person?" 

Miss  Upton  shook  her  head.     "No,  in- 

36 


THE  PRINCE 


deed,  it  ain't  poor  Charlotte  I  'm  thinkin'  of, 
Ben,"  again  speaking  impressively.  "Can 
you  spare  time  to  come  over  and  see  me  a 
little  while  to-morrow  afternoon?  I  know 
your  mother  always  has  a  lot  of  young  folks 
in  for  tea  for  you  Sundays." 

"She  won't  to-morrow.  I  told  her  I 
wanted  to  lie  in  the  grass  under  the  apple- 
blossoms  and  compose  sonnets;  but  your 
feelings  will  do  just  as  well." 

"I  must  tell  somebody,  and  you  know 
Charlotte  is  n't  sympathetic." 

"No,  except  perhaps  with  a  porcupine. 
You  might  try  her  with  one  of  those.  Tether 
it  in  the  back  yard,  and  when  she  is  in  spe 
cially  good  form  turn  her  out  there  and  let 
them  sport  together.  —  Easy  now,  Mehit  — 
easy."  For  Miss  Upton's  escort  had  jumped 
out  and  she  was  essaying  to  leave  the  car. 

"If  I  ever  knew  which  foot  to  put  first," 
she  said  desperately,  withdrawing  the  left 
and  reaching  down  gingerly  with  her  right. 

"Let  me  have  the  bag  and  the  umbrella," 
suggested  her  companion.  "Now,  then,  one 
light  spring.  Steady!"  For  clutching  both 
the  young  man's  hands  she  made  him  quiver 
to  the  shock  as  she  fell  against  him. 

37 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Pm  clumsy  when  I'm  tired,  Ben,"  she 
explained.  "I'm  so  much  obliged  to  you, 
and  you  will  come  over  to-morrow  after 
noon?" 

"To  hear  about  the  umbrella?  Yes,  in 
deed!  Look  at  its  fine  open  countenance. 
You  can  see  at  once  that  it  has  performed 
some  great  deed  to-day."  He  shook  the 
capacious  fluttering  folds  and  handed  it  to 
its  owner. 

"Thank  you  so  much,  Ben,  and  give  my 
love  to  your  mother." 

The  young  fellow  jumped  into  the  car  and 
sped  away  and  Miss  Upton  plodded  slowly 
up  to  her  door  whose  bell  pealed  sharply  as 
it  was  pulled  open  by  an  unseen  hand,  and  a 
colorless,  sour-visaged  woman  appeared  in 
the  entrance.  Her  hay-colored  hair  was 
strained  back  and  wound  in  a  tight,  small 
knot,  her  forehead  wore  a  chronic  scowl, 
and  her  one-sided  mouth  had  a  vinegary 
expression. 

"Think  you're  smart,  don't  you?"  was 
her  greeting;  "comin'  home  in  a  grand 
automobile  with  the  biggest  ketch  in  the 
village." 

"Yes,  wasn't  I  lucky?"  responded  Miss 
38 


THE   PRINCE 


Upton  nasally.  "I  hope  the  kettle's  on, 
Charlotte.  I  'm  beat  out." 

"Well,  what  did  you  stay  so  long  for? 
That's  what  you  always  do  —  stay  till  the 
last  dog's  hung  and  wear  yourself  out." 
The  speaker  snatched  the  bag  and  umbrella 
and  Miss  Mehitable  followed  her  into  the 
house,  through  the  shop,  and  into  the  little 
living-room  at  the  back  where  an  open  fire 
burned  in  the  Franklin  stove  and  the  tea- 
table  was  neatly  set  for  two. 

Miss  Upton  regarded  the  platter  of 
sliced  meat,  the  amber  preserve,  and  napkin- 
enfolded  biscuit  listlessly. 

"How  nice  you  always  make  a  table  look," 
she  said. 

"Well,  set  right  down  and  give  me  your 
hat  and  jacket.  Drink  some  tea  before  you 
talk  any  more.  I  should  think  you'd  have 
some  sense  by  this  time." 

Scolding  away,  Charlotte  poured  the  tea 
and  Miss  Mehitable  drank  it  in  silence. 
Her  companion's  monotonous  grumbling 
was  like  the  ticking  of  the  clock  so  far  as  any 
effect  it  had  upon  her.  The  autumn  before, 
this  woman's  drunken  husband,  Whipp  by 
name,  had  passed  out  of  her  life.  She  was 

39 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

penniless,  not  strong,  and  friendless  as  much 
by  reason  of  her  sharp  tongue  as  by  her 
poor  circumstances.  Miss  Upton  hired  her 
one  day  a  week  for  cleaning  and  once  upon 
a  time  fell  ill  herself,  when  this  unpromising 
person  developed  such  a  kindly  touch  in 
nursing  and  so  much  common  sense  in  tend 
ing  the  little  shop,  that  Miss  Mehitable, 
seeing  what  a  godsend  it  would  be  to  the 
poor  creature,  asked  her  to  stay  on;  since 
which  time,  though  no  gratitude  had  ever 
been  expressed  in  words,  Mrs.  Whipp  had 
taken  upon  herself  the  ruling  of  the  small 
establishment  and  its  mistress  with  all  the 
vigor  possible.  Miss  Upton  had  told  her 
to  bring  with  her  anything  she  valued  and 
the  widow  had  twisted  her  thin,  one-sided 
mouth:  "There  ain't  a  thing  in  that  shanty 
I  don't  wish  was  burned  except  Pearl,"  she 
said.  "I'll  bring  her  if  you'll  let  me.  She's 
a  Malty  cat." 

"Oh,  bring  her  along,"  Miss  Mehitable 
had  replied.  "I  suppose  I  won't  really 
sense  that  I'm  an  old  maid  until  there's  a 
cat  in  the  house." 

So  Pearl  came,  and  to-night  she  sat  blink 
ing  at  the  leaping  flame  in  the  open  stove 

40 


THE  PRINCE 


while  the  two  women  ate  their  supper  in 
the  long  spring  evening. 

"I  brought  some  things  home  in  my  bag," 
said  Miss  Upton,  "but  most  o'  them  are 
comin'  out  Monday." 

"Put  in  a  good  day,  did  you?"  asked 
Charlotte,  who,  now  that  her  mind  was  re 
lieved  of  rebukes,  was  ready  to  listen  to  the 
tales  she  always  expected  when  Miss  Mehit- 
able  returned  from  her  trips. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  did  pretty  well,"  was  the 
answer. 

But  the  widow  regarded  her  friend  with 
dissatisfaction.  This  dispirited  manner  was 
very  different  from  the  effervescence  which 
usually  bubbled  over  in  anecdote. 

"Well,  next  time  don't  stay  till  you're 
worn  to  a  frazzle,"  she  said. 

"I  missed  the  train,  Charlotte.  That 
was  what  happened." 

"Well,  didn't  Mr.  Barry  have  anything 
to  say  comin'  out  on  the  train?"  asked  Mrs. 
Whipp,  determined  to  get  some  of  her 
usual  proxy  satisfaction  from  Miss  Upton's 
outing. 

"I  never  saw  him  till  we  got  to  Keefe. 
Oh,  Charlotte,  if  I'd  ever  met  a  boy  like 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

him  when  I  was  young  I  would  n't  be 
keepin'  a  store  now  with  another  woman 
and  a  cat." 

"H'm,  you're  better  ofT  as  you  are.  Ben 
Barry's  young  yet.  He'll  be  in  plenty  of 
mischief  before  he's  forty.  His  mother  was 
in  the  shop  to-day.  With  all  her  money 
it's  queer  she  never  married  again." 

"Oh,  she's  just  wrapped  up  in  her  flowers 
and  chickens,"  remarked  Miss  Mehitable. 

"Well,"  returned  Charlotte,  "seems  to 
me  if  I  had  a  big  house  and  grounds  like 
that,  I'd  want  somebody  around  besides 
servants." 

Miss  Mehitable  lifted  her  eyes  from  her 
meat  and  potato  and  gazed  at  her  com 
panion. 

"Queer  you  should  say  that,"  she  re 
turned.  "I  was  speakin'  of  that  very  thing 
to  Ben  to-day.  I  should  really  think  his 
mother  would  like  somebody;  somebody 
young  and  —  and  pleasant,  you  know." 

"Well,"  returned  Charlotte,  breaking  open 
a  biscuit,  "I  suppose  havin'  got  rid  of 
her  husband  she  thinks  she'll  let  well 
enough  alone.  She's  the  happiest-lookin' 
woman  in  town.  Why  not?  She's  got 

42 


THE   PRINCE 


the    most   money    and    no    man    to    bother 
her." 

"Why,  Charlotte  Whipp,  you  don't  know 
what  you're  sayin'.  Ben's  father  was  a  fine 
man.  For  years  after  he  died  Mrs.  Barry 
couldn't  hardly  smile.  Yes"  —  Miss  Up 
ton's  thoughtful  manner  returned — "Ben's 
away  so  much  I  should  think  she'd  like 
to  have  somebody,  say  a  nice  young  girl 
with  her.  Of  course,  to  folks  with  motors 
Keefe  ain't  much  more'n  a  suburb  to  the 
city  now,  and  Mrs.  Barry,  with  her  three 
months  in  town  and  three  months  to  the 
port  and  six  months  here,  has  a  full, 
pleasant  life,  and  I  s'pose  that  fine  son 
fills  it.  Was  n't  she  fortunate  to  get  him 
out  o*  the  war  safe?  You'd  ought  to  'a' 
seen  him  in  his  Naval  Aviation  uniform, 
Charlotte.  He  looked  like  a  prince;  but 
he  could  'a'  bitten  a  board  nail  because 
he  never  got  to  go  across  the  water.  I 
s'pose  his  mother 's  average  patriotic,  but  I 
guess  she  thanked  Heaven  he  could  n't  go. 
She  did  n't  dare  say  anything  like  that  be 
fore  him,  though.  It  was  a  terrible  disap 
pointment.  Oh,  Charlotte"  —  Miss  Upton 
bent  a  wistful  smile  on  her  table-mate  —  "I 

43 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

can't  help  thinkin'  what  a  wonderful  home 
the  Barry  house  would  be  for  some  needy 
girl  —  a  lady,  you  know." 

"H'm!"  Charlotte's  twisted  mouth  con 
tracted  further  as  she  gave  a  dry  little  sniff. 
"She'd  probably  fall  in  love  with  Ben,  and 
he  would  n't  give  a  snap  for  her,  so  she'd 
be  miserable  anyway." 

Miss  Mehitable  shook  her  head.  "If  all 
your  probablys  came  true,  Charlotte,  what 
a  world  this  would  be." 

"What  a  world  it  is!  "  retorted  the  other. 
"Have  some  more  tea"  —  then  as  Miss 
Mehitable  demurred  —  "Yes,  have  some. 
It'll  do  you  good  and  maybe  brighten 
up  your  wits  so's  you  can  remember  some- 
thin'  that's  happened  to  you  to-day." 

Miss  Upton  cudgeled  her  brain  for  the 
small  occurrences  of  her  shopping  and  man 
aged  to  recall  a  few  items;  but  she  was  not 
in  her  usual  form  and  Charlotte  received 
her  offerings  with  scornful  sniffs  and  silence. 

Miss  Upton's  dreams  that  night  were 
troubled  and  the  sermon  next  morning  fell 
on  deaf  ears.  Ben  and  his  mother  were 
both  in  the  Barry  pew  near  the  memorial 
window  to  his  father.  She  could  not  resist 

44 


THE   PRINCE 


the  drawing  which  made  her  head  turn 
periodically  to  make  certain  that  Ben  was 
really  there.  Miss  Mehitable  respected  men 
in  general,  especially  in  time  of  trouble, 
and  in  this  case  the  legal  mind  attracted 
her.  Ben  was  going  to  be  a  lawyer  even  if 
he  was  n't  one  yet.  The  Barrys  had  money 
and  influence,  they  were  always  friendly  to 
her,  and  while  she  could  not  impart  poor 
little  Geraldine's  story  to  Mrs.  Barry  direct 
without  appearing  to  beg,  it  might  reach 
and  interest  her  via  Ben. 

When  the  last  hymn  had  been  sung  and 
the  benediction  pronounced,  Miss  Upton 
watched  with  jealous  eyes  the  various  in 
terruptions  to  the  Barrys'  progress  down 
the  aisle.  Everybody  liked  to  have  a  word 
with  them.  All  the  girls  were  willing  to 
make  it  easy  to  be  asked  to  the  hospitable 
house  for  Sunday  tea.  Miss  Mehitable 
glowered  at  the  bolder  and  more  aggressive 
of  these  as  she  moved  along  a  side  aisle. 

When  mother  and  son  finally  reached  the 
sunlit  out-of-doors  they  found  Miss  Upton 
waiting  beside  the  steps. 

"Why,  if  here  is  n't  the  fair  Mehit,"  re 
marked  Ben  as  they  approached,  and  his 

45 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

mother  smiled  and  shook  her  regal  head  and 
Miss  Upton's  hand  simultaneously. 

"I  don't  understand  why  you  allow  Ben 
to  be  so  disrespectful,"  she  said. 

"Law,  Mrs.  Barry,"  replied  Miss  Upton, 
"you  must  know  that  women  don't  care 
anything  about  bein'  respected.  What  they 
want  is  to  be  liked;  and  Ben's  a  good  friend 


o'  mine." 


"Sure  thing,"  remarked  the  young  fellow, 
something  in  Miss  Mehitable's  eyes  re 
minding  him  of  her  portentous  yesterday 
and  his  promise.  "Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you, 
mother,  Miss  Upton  is  going  home  to  dinner 
with  us  to-day." 

"No,  no,  I'm  not,  Ben,"  put  in  Miss 
Mehitable  hastily.  "I  could  n't  leave  Char 
lotte  alone  for  Sunday  dinner;  but"  —  she 
looked  at  Mrs.  Barry  —  "I  do  want  to  see 
Ben  about  something  and  he  promised  me  a 
little  time  this  afternoon." 

"Mehit  got  into  trouble  yesterday,"  Ben 
explained  to  his  mother.  "Somebody  tried 
to  rob  her  of  her  notions  and  she  beaned 
him  with  her  umbrella.  She's  scared  to 
death  and  she  wants  to  consult  the  law." 
The  speaker  delivered  a  blow  on  his  chest. 

46 


THE   PRINCE 


"I  know  you  hate  to  spare  him  the  little 
time  he's  home,  Mrs.  Barry,"  said  Miss 
Upton  apologetically;  "but  I'll  keep  him 
only  a  short  time  and  —  and  I  could  n't 
hardly  sleep  last  night,  though  it  ain't  any 
o'  my  business,  really." 

"It's  a  good  business  if  you're  in  it,  I 
know  that,"  said  Mrs.  Barry  kindly,  "and 
I'll  lend  you  Ben  with  pleasure  if  he  can  do 
you  any  good!" 

"Then  when  will  you  be  over,  Ben?" 
asked  Miss  Mehitable  anxiously.  "I'd  like 
to  know  just  when  to  expect  you." 

"You  don't  tr-r-ust  me,  that's  what's  the 
matter,"  he  returned.  "Will  you  promise 
to  muzzle  Merry  Sunshine?" 

"I  —  I  think  perhaps  Charlotte  will  go 
out  to  walk,"  returned  Miss  Upton,  some 
what  troubled  herself  to  know  how  to  insure 
privacy  in  her  restricted  domain.  "She 
does,  sometimes,  Sundays." 

"How  does  it  affect  the  Keefe  spring 
time  to  have  her  walk  out  in  it?"  inquired 
Ben  solicitously. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Ben,"  said  his  mother, 
sympathetic  with  the  anxiety  in  Miss  Mehit- 
able's  face,  "bring  Miss  Upton  over  to  see 

47 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

our  apple-blossoms,  and  you  can  have  your 
talk  at  our  house." 

Relief  overspread  Miss  Upton's  round 
countenance. 

"Certainly.  I'll  call  for  you  at  three," 
said  Ben,  "Blackstone  under  my  arm.  If 
Merry  Sunshine  attacks  me  it  will  be  a  trusty 
weapon.  Hop  into  the  car,  Mehit,  and 
we'll  run  you  home." 

Mrs.  Barry  laughed.  "The  sermon  doesn't 
seem  to  have  done  him  any  good  this  morn 
ing,  Miss  Upton.  We  shall  be  glad  to  take 
you  home." 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  GOOD  FAIRY 

So  again  Mrs.  Whipp  saw  her  friend  and 
employer  descend  from  the  Barry  car. 

She  did  n't  open  the  door  for  her  this  time, 
but  sat,  rocking,  in  the  shop  with  Pearl  in 
her  lap,  and  sniffed  at  her  as  she  entered. 

"You  and  your  fine  friends,"  she  scoffed. 
"Pretty  soon  you  won't  demean  yourself  to 
use  the  trolley  at  all." 

"If  you  had  only  been  willing  to  come  to 
church,  Charlotte,  they'd  have  brought  you 
home,  too,"  said  Miss  Mehitable,  hoping  she 
was  telling  the  truth. 

"'The    Sabbath    was    made    for    man," 
snapped   Mrs.   Whipp,    "not   man   for  the 
Sabbath,   to   go   and   hear   that   man   talk 
through  his  nose!" 

"Now,  Charlotte,  I  refused  to  go  home  to 
dinner  with  them  just  so's  you  and  I  could 
have  our  meal  together;  so  don't  you  make 
me  sorry." 

Mrs.  Whipp  had  started  up  at  once  alertly 

49 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

on  her  friend's  entrance,  spilling  Pearl,  and 
was  already  removing  Miss  Mehitable's 
jacket  and  hat  with  deft  fingers  and  receiv 
ing  the  silk  gloves  she  pulled  off. 

"H'm,  I  don't  believe  they'll  eat  any 
better  things  than  we're  goin'  to  have. 
How  can  I  go  to  church  and  have  us  a  good 
hot  dinner?" 

"Sunday  dinner  should  be  cold  mainly," 
returned  Miss  Upton  calmly.  "Mine  al 
ways  was  till  you  came.  Of  course  you're 
such  a  splendid  cook,  Charlotte,  it's  kind 
of  a  temptation  to  you  to  spoil  me  and  feed 
me  up,  yet  you  know  I  ought  not  to  eat 
much."  ' 

"Oh,  pshaw,"  returned  Mrs.  Whipp. 
"More  folks  die  from  the  lack  o'  good 
things  than  from  eatin'  'em." 

"You'll  have  to  look  out,"  said  Miss 
Mehitable  warningly,  following  her  friend's 
lead  to  the  sunny  living-room  where  the 
table  was  spread.  "It's  a  sayin'  that  good 
cooks  are  always  cross.  The  better  you 
cook  the  more  you  must  watch  to  have 
your  temper  as  sweet  as  your  sauces." 

"Ho!  Vinegar's  just  as  important  as  oil," 
retorted  the  other.  "You're  so  smooth  to 

50 


THE  GOOD   FAIRY 


everybody  it's  a  good  thing  I  came  to  live 
with  you  and  keep  you  from  bein'  imposed 
upon." 

Miss  Mehitable  laughed.  "You  think  to 
gether  we  make  a  pretty  good  salad,  do  you  ? " 
she  returned. 

When  dinner  was  on  the  table  and  they 
were  both  seated,  Miss  Upton  spoke  again: 

"I  wonder  how  you're  goin'  to  like  it  to 
the  port?"  she  said. 

"Awful  rheumatic,  I  sh'd  think  'twould 
be,"  returned  Mrs.  Whipp. 

"Pretty  soon  we'll  have  to  be  goin',"  said 
Miss  Upton.  "I  usually  lock  everything  up 
here  tight  as  a  drum  for  three  months.  I 
was  talkin'  to  a  man  in  town  yesterday  that 
thought  it  was  a  joke  that  folks  in  Keefe 
just  went  a  few  miles  to  their  seashore  cot 
tages.  He  was  from  Chicago  where  you  have 
to  go  a  thousand  miles  to  get  anywhere.  I 
told  him  I  could  n't  see  anything  funny 
about  it.  Keefe  was  a  village  and  Keefe- 
port  was  a  resort;  but  he  kept  on  laughin* 
and  said  it  was  like  lockin'  the  door  of  one 
home  and  goin'  across  the  street  to  another, 
then  back  again  in  the  fall.  I  told  him  I 
was  full  as  satisfied  as  I  would  be  to  have 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

to  make  my  way  through  Indians  and  buf 
faloes  to  get  anywhere  as  you  have  to  in 
those  wild  Western  cities.  He  claimed  that 
it  was  perfectly  civilized  around  Chicago 
now;  but  of  course  he'd  say  that." 

"H'm,"  returned  Mrs.  Whipp,  non- 
committally. 

"Now  I  was  thinkin',  Charlotte,  that  there 
ain't  a  reason  in  the  world  why  you  should 
go  to  the  port  if  you  don't  want  to.  You 
can  stay  right  here  and  look  after  the  house. 
I  shall  move  the  shop  goods  just  as  I  always 
do  to  my  little  port  place." 

"  You  don't  get  along  there  alone,  do  you  ? " 
asked  Charlotte  hastily. 

"No;  one  o'  the  schoolgirls  is  always 
glad  to  live  with  me  in  vacation  and  work 
for  her  board.  I  had  Nellie  Mclntyre  last 


summer." 


"Oh,  of  course,  if  you'd  rather  have 
Nellie." 

"I  wouldn't,"  said  Miss  Upton  calmly; 
"but  she  don't  have  rheumatism  nor  mind 
the  dampness.  She  thinks  it's  a  great 
chance  to  be  to  the  shore  and  swim  every 
day,  and  she's  happy  as  a  bird  from  mornin' 
till  night.  If  she  ain't  to  go  this  year,  I 

52 


THE   GOOD   FAIRY 


must  let  the  child  know,  for  I  expect  she's 
lottin'  on  it." 

The  silence  that  followed  this  was  broken 
only  by  the  purring  of  Pearl  who  had  es 
tablished  herself  upon  a  broad  beam  of  sun 
shine  which  lay  across  the  ingrain  carpet. 
Miss  Mehitable  was  recklessly  extravagant 
of  carpets  in  Mrs.  Whipp's  opinion.  She 
would  not  allow  the  shutting-out  of  the  sun 
light. 

Miss  Upton  drank  her  tea  busily  now  to 
conceal  her  desire  to  smile.  Some  of  Ben 
Barry's  comments  upon  her  companion  re 
turned  to  her  irresistibly;  for  she  easily  fol 
lowed  Charlotte's  present  mental  processes. 

Mrs.  Whipp  was  in  a  most  uncomfortable 
corner  and  her  friend  had  driven  her  into  it 
with  such  bland  kindness  that  it  made  the 
situation  doubly  difficult.  There  was  noth 
ing  Charlotte  could  resent  in  being  offered 
a  summer  of  ease  in  the  Keefe  cottage;  but 
to  be  confronted  with  the  alternatives  of 
renouncing  all  right  to  complain  of  fog  and 
storm,  or  else  to  part  from  Miss  Mehitable 
and  allow  her  to  run  her  own  life  and  notions 
for  the  whole  summer,  was  a  dilemma  which 
drove  her  also  to  drinking  a  great  deal  of  tea, 

53 


\ 

IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

and   leaving   the   floor   to   Pearl   for   some 
minutes. 

Miss  Upton  did  not  help  her  out,  but, 
regaining  control  of  her  risibles,  continued 
to  eat  and  drink  placidly,  allowing  her  com 
panion  to  cerebrate. 

Well  she  knew  that  now  was  the  time  to 
defend  herself  from  a  summer  of  grumbling 
as  continuous  as  the  swish  of  waves  on  the 
shore;  and  well  she  knew  also  her  compan 
ion's  verbally  unexpressed  but  intense  de 
votion  to  herself  which  made  any  prospect 
of  their  separation  a  panic.  So  she  waited 
and  Pearl  purred. 

One  Mr.  Lugubrious  Blue  flits  through 
the  drawings  of  a  certain  famous  cartoonist. 
Mr.  Blue's  mission  is  to  take  the  joy  out  of 
life  and  Charlotte  Whipp  was  his  blood 
kin.  The  tip  of  her  long  nose  was  as  chilly 
as  his  and  her  gloom  was  similarly  chronic. 
Miss  Upton  was  determined  that  she  would 
not  be  the  first  to  break  in  upon  Pearl's 
solo. 

Finally  Charlotte  spoke: 

"Do  the  Barrys  have  a  house  to  the  port?" 

"Yes,  a  real  cottage.  The  rest  of  us  have 
shelters,  but  you  can't  call  'em  houses." 

54 


THE  GOOD   FAIRY 


Mrs.  Whipp  looked  up  apprehensively. 
"Do  you  mean  they  let  in  the  rain?" 

"Sometimes  in  storms,"  returned  Miss 
Upton  cheerfully,  "but  we  run  around  with 
pans  and  catch  it." 

Mrs.  Whipp  viewed  her  bread  and  butter 
gloomily,  the  down-drawn  corner  of  her  one 
sided  mouth  unusually  depressed. 

Miss  Mehitable  felt  a  wild  desire  to  laugh. 
She  wished  she  could  keep  Ben  Barry  out 
of  her  mind  during  this  important  inter 
view.  Her  kind  heart  administered  a  little 
comfort. 

"You  see,  there  is  n't  any  lath  and  plaster 
to  the  cottage,  but  it's  good  and  tight  ex 
cept  in  very  bad  weather,"  she  said. 

"It's  a  wonder  you  don't  get  rheumatics 
yourself,"  vouchsafed  Charlotte. 

"Nobody  thinks  of  such  a  thing  in  that 
beautiful  sun-soaked  place,"  returned  Miss 
Upton. 

"Sun-stroke  did  you  say?"  asked  Mrs. 
Whipp,  looking  up  quickly. 

"No."  Miss  Mehitable  indulged  in  one 
frank  laugh.  "Sun-soaked." 

"Sounds  more  like  water-logged  to  me 
from  your  description,"  said  the  other  sourly, 

55 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

returning  to  her  dinner.  "I  don't  see  why 
you  go  there." 

"For  two  reasons.  First,  because  I  love 
it  better  than  any  place  on  earth,  and  second, 
because  it's  good  business.  I  do  a  better 
business  there  than  I  do  here.  You  think 
it  over,  Charlotte,  because  I  ought  to  let 
Nellie  know." 

"Well,  you  can  let  Nellie  know  that  I'm 
goin',"  replied  Mrs.  Whipp  crossly.  "What 
sense  is  there  in  your  takin'  a  girl  to  the  port 
to  go  in  swimmin'  while  you  work?" 

"Nellie  was  a  very  good  little  helper," 
declared  Miss  Mehitable,  again  taking  refuge 
in  her  teacup.  When  she  set  it  down  she 
continued:  "If  you  think,  Charlotte,  that 
you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  take  the 
bitter  with  the  sweet,  the  rain  and  the  sun, 
the  fog  and  the  wind,  why,  come  along;  but 
it  don't  do  a  bit  o'  good  to  argue  with  Nep 
tune.  He'll  stick  his  fork  right  through  you 
if  you  do." 

Mrs.  Whipp  stared,  but  Miss  Upton's 
eyes  were  twinkling  so  she  suspected  this 
was  just  one  of  her  jokes. 

"I  never  was  one  to  shirk,"  she  declared 
curtly. 

56 


"Then  I  can  tell  Nellie  you  want  to  go?" 

That  word  "want"  made  Charlotte  writhe 
and  was  probably  accountable  for  the  extra 
acidity  of  her  reply: 

"Yes,  unless  you're  tongue-tied,"  she  re 
turned. 

When  dinner  was  over  and  the  dishes 
washed  and  put  away  (Miss  Upton's  Sunday 
suit  being  enveloped  in  a  huge  gingham 
apron  during  the  performance),  Miss  Mehit- 
able  watched  solicitously  to  see  if  Charlotte 
manifested  any  symptoms  of  going  out  for  a 
constitutional.  She  asked  herself,  with  a 
good  deal  of  severity,  why  she  should  dread 
to  inform  Mrs.  Whipp  of  her  own  plan  for 
the  afternoon. 

"I  guess  I'm  free,  white,  and  twenty- 
one,"  thought  Miss  Upton.  But  all  the 
same  she  continued  to  cast  furtive  glances 
at  Mrs.  Whipp,  who  showed  every  sign  of 
relapsing  into  a  rocking-chair  with  Pearl  in 
her  lap. 

"It's  a  real  pleasant  day,  Charlotte," 
she  said.  "Ain't  you  goin'  to  walk?" 

Mrs.  Whipp  yawned.     "Dunno  as  I  am." 

"I've  got  to  go  out  again,"  pursued  Miss 
Mehitable  intrepidly,  but  she  felt  the  dull 

57 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

gaze  that  at  once  turned  and  fixed  upon  her. 
"I've  got  to  see  Ben  Barry  about  some  busi 
ness  that  came  up  in  the  city  yesterday." 

"I  knew  you  had  something  on  your 
mind  last  night,"  returned  Mrs.  Whipp,  tri 
umphantly.  "I  notice  you  wouldn't  tell 


me." 


"You  ain't  a  lawyer,  Charlotte  Whipp." 

"Neither  is  that  young  whipper-snapper," 
rejoined  the  widow,  "but  then  of  course  he's 
a  Barry." 

"You  do  try  my  patience  dreadfully, 
Charlotte,"  declared  Miss  Mehitable,  her 
plump  cheeks  scarlet.  "If  you  didn't  know 
when  you  came  here  that  Mrs.  Barry  is  one 
o'  the  best  friends  I  've  got  in  the  world,  I  '11 
tell  you  so  now.  You  need  n't  be  throwin' 
'em  up  to  me  just  because  they've  got 
money.  I'm  goin'  there  whenever  they  ask 
me,  and  this  afternoon's  one  o'  the  times." 

She  felt  like  a  child  who  works  its  elbows 
to  throw  off  some  hampering  annoyance. 
How  her  companion  managed  to  hold  her 
under  the  spell  of  domination  which  seemed 
merely  a  heavy  weight  of  silent  disapproval, 
she  did  not  understand.  It  always  meant 
jealousy,  Miss  Mehitable  knew  that,  and 

58 


THE  GOOD   FAIRY 


usually  her  peace-loving,  sunny  nature  paci 
fied  and  coaxed  the  offended  one,  but  oc 
casionally  she  stood  her  ground.  She  knew 
that  presently  the  Barry  car  would  again 
draw  up  before  her  gate  and  she  felt  she 
must  forestall  Charlotte's  sneers. 

"How  soon  you  goin'?"  inquired  the  latter 
mildly. 

"At  three  o'clock,"  returned  Miss  Upton 
bravely. 

"Let  me  fix  your  collar,"  said  Charlotte, 
rising;  "your  apron  rumpled  it  all  up." 

"Why  can't  I  remember  to  bully  her 
oftener?"  thought  Miss  Mehitable.  "It  al 
ways  does  her  good  just  like  medicine." 

Promptly  at  three  Ben  Barry  jumped  out 
of  his  car  before  Miss  Upton's  Emporium, 
and  Mrs.  Whipp  dodged  behind  the  window- 
curtain  and  watched  them  drive  away. 

"I  saw  that  cute  Lottie  looking  after  us," 
said  Ben. 

"Poor  thing,  I  kind  o'  hate  to  leave  her  on 
a  Sunday,"  said  Miss  Upton,  sighing. 

"'The  better  the  day,  the  better  the 
deed,'"  remarked  her  companion.  "You've 
got  me  all  het  up  about  you  and  your 
umbrella.  What's  my  part?  To  keep  you 

59 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

out  of  the  lock-up?     Whom  did  you  'sault 
'n'    batter?     When   are    you   going  to    tell 


me: 

u 


You  see  that's  one  thing  that's  the  mat 
ter  with  Charlotte,"  said  Miss  Mehitable. 
"She  does  hate  to  think  I'm  keepin'  any 
thing  from  her  and  she  felt  it  in  the  air." 

"Do  you  believe  she'll  visit  you  in  prison? 
I  '11  address  the  jury  myself.  I  maintain  that 
one  punishment's  enough.  You  at  least  de 
serve  a  holiday.  Say,  Mehit,  me  dear,  I've 
a  big  surprise  for  you,  too.  You  know  I 
told  you  I  warned  mother  to  have  no  guests 
this  afternoon." 

''  Yes,  you  said  you  wanted  to  write  poetry 

—  Ben"  — the    speaker    suddenly    grasped 
the  driver's  coat-sleeve  —  "I  never  thought 
of  it  till  this  minute,  but,  Ben   Barry"  — 
Miss  Upton's  voice  expressed  acute  dismay 

—  "are  you  in  love?" 

"Why,  does  it  mean  so  much  to  you, 
little  one?"  responded  Ben  sentimentally. 

"You  would  n't  take  near  as  much  inter 
est,  not  near  as  much  if  you  've  got  a  girl  on 
your  mind." 

"One?  Dozens,  Mehit.  I'm  only 
human,  dear." 

60 


THE  GOOD   FAIRY 


"If  it's  dozens,  it's  all  right,"  returned 
Miss  Upton,  relieved.  "There's  always 
room  for  one  more  in  that  case,  but  what 
is  your  surprise,  then,  Ben?" 

"  I  did  n't  want  to  be  alone  to  write  poetry. 
I  wanted  to  gloat,  undisturbed.  My  dandy 
mother  is  giving  me  something  I've  been 
aching  to  have." 

Miss  Upton's  face  brightened.  "Yes,  I 
know.  Something's  being  built  way  back 
o'  your  house.  Folks  are  wonderin'  what  it 
is.  It  looks  like  some  queer  kind  of  a  stable. 
What  in  the  world  can  you  want,  Ben! 
You've  got  the  cars  and  a  motor-cycle,  and 
a  saddle-horse." 

"Well"  -  -  confidentially  —  "don't  tell, 
Mehit,  but  I  wanted  a  zebra.  Horses  are 
too  commonplace." 

"But  they  can't  be  tamed,  zebras  can't," 
returned  Miss  Upton,  much  disturbed. 
"I've  read  about  'em.  You'll  be  killed. 
I  shall— " 

"I  must  have  a  zebra  and  a  striped  riding- 
suit  to  be  happy.  While  you  're  wearing  the 
stripes  in  jail  I'll  come  and  ride  up  and  down 
outside  your  barred  window  and  cheer  you 
up." 

61 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"I  don't  believe  it's  a  zebra,"  declared 
Miss  Mehitable;  "but  if  it  is  I  shall  tell 
your  mother  you  cannot  have  it,  Ben 
Barry." 

"And  yet  you  expect  me  to  sympathize 
with  your  umbrella  — " 

"Oh,  how  beautiful!"  exclaimed  Miss  Up 
ton  suddenly;  for  now  the  tinted,  pearly 
pink  cloud  of  the  Barrys'  apple-orchard 
came  in  view. 

The  house  was  a  brick  structure  with 
broad  verandas,  set  back  among  well-kept 
lawns  and  drives,  and  its  fine  elm  trees  were 
noted.  Mrs.  Barry  was  reclining  in  a  ham 
mock-chair  under  one  of  them  as  the  car 
drove  in,  and  she  rose  and  came  to  meet  the 
guest.  Miss  Mehitable  thought  she  looked 
like  a  queen  as  her  erect,  graceful  figure 
moved  across  the  lawn  in  the  long  silken 
cape  that  floated  back  and  showed  its  violet 
lining. 

"It's  perfectly  beautiful  here  to-day," 
she  said  as  the  hostess  greeted  her;  "but, 
oh,  Mrs.  Barry,  I  suppose  I'm  a  fool  to  ever 
believe  Ben"  —  the  speaker  cast  a  glance 
around  at  her  escort  —  "but  you  won't  let 
him  have  a  zebra,  will  you?  They're  the 

62 


THE   GOOD   FAIRY 


most  dangerous  animals.  He  says  you're 
goin'  to  give  him  — " 

"My  dear  Miss  Upton,"  Mrs.  Barry 
laughed,  "  I  do  need  a  scolding,  I  know.  I  Ve 
allowed  myself  to  be  talked  into  something 
crazy  —  crazy.  It's  much  worse  than  a 
zebra,  but  you  know  what  a  big  disappoint 
ment  Ben  had  last  year  —  flapping  his  wings 
and  aching  and  longing  to  go  across  the  sea 
while  Uncle  Sam  obstinately  refused  to  let 
him  go  over  and  end  the  War?  All  dressed 
up  and  no  place  to  go!  Poor  Benny!" 
Mrs.  Barry  glanced  at  her  son,  laughing. 
"He  did  need  some  consolation  prize,  and 
anyway  he  persuaded  me  to  let  him  have  an 
aeroplane." 

"Mrs.  —  Barry!"  returned  Miss  Mehit- 
able,  and  she  gazed  around  at  Ben  with  wide 
eyes. 

"I'm  such  a  bird,  you  see,"  he  explained. 

"Well,"  said  the  visitor  after  a  pause, 
drawing  her  suspended  breath,  "I'm  glad  I 
can  talk  to  you  before  you  're  killed." 

"Oh,  not  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Barry.  "He  is  at  home  in  the  air,  you 
know,  and  he  assures  me  they  will  soon  be 
quite  common.  Come  up  on  the  veranda, 

63 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Miss  Upton.  I'm  going  to  hide  you  and 
Ben  in  a  corner  where  no  one  will  disturb 
you." 

"What  a  big  place  for  you  to  live  in  all 
alone,"  observed  Mehitable  as  they  moved 
toward  the  house,  and  Ben  drove  the  car  to 
the  garage. 

"Yes,  it  is;  but  Pm  so  busy  with  my 
chickens  and  my  bees  Pm  never  lonely. 
Pm  quite  a  farmer,  Miss  Upton.  See  how 
fine  my  orchard  is  this  year?  I  tell  Ben 
that  so  long  as  he  does  n't  light  in  my  apple- 
trees  we  can  be  friends." 

"I  think  you're  awful  venturesome,  Mrs. 
Barry!" 

That  lady  smiled  as  they  moved  up  the 
steps  to  the  veranda,  the  black  and  violet 
folds  of  her  shimmering  wrap  blowing  about 
her  in  lines  of  beauty  that  fascinated  her 
companion. 

"What  else  can  the  mother  of  a  boy  be?" 
she  returned.  "Ben  has  been  training  me 
in  courage  ever  since  he  was  born;  apparently 
the  prize-ring  or  the  circus  would  have  been 
his  natural  field  of  operations;  so  I  have 
chained  him  down  to  the  law  and  given 
him  an  aeroplane  so  he  can  work  off  his 


THE   GOOD   FAIRY 


extra   steam    away   from    the   publicity   of 
earth." 

At  last  the  hostess  withdrew,  and  Miss 
Upton  found  herself  alone  with  her  embryo 
lawyer  in  a  sheltered  corner  of  the  porch 
where  the  vines  were  hastening  to  sprout 
their  curtaining  green,  and  a  hammock, 
comfortable  chairs,  a  table  and  books  pro 
claimed  the  place  an  out-of-door  sitting- 


room. 

(4 


Your  mother  is  wonderful,"  she  began 
when  her  companion  had  placed  her  satis 
factorily  and  had  stretched  himself  out  in  a 
listening  attitude,  his  hands  clasped  behind 
his  head  and 'his  eyes  on  hers. 

What  eyes  they  were,  Miss  Upton  thought. 
Clear  and  light-brown,  the  color  of  water 
catching  the  light  in  a  swift,  sunny  brook. 

"She  is  a  queen,"  he  responded  with  con 
viction. 

"A  pity  such  a  woman  has  n't  got  a  daugh 
ter,"  said  Miss  Mehitable  tentatively. 

"I'm  going  to  give  her  one  some  day." 
A  smile  accompanied  this. 

"Is  she  picked  out?" 

Ben  laughed  at  his  companion's  anxious 
tone.  "You  seem  interested  in  my  pros- 

65 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

pects.  That's  the  second  time  you  have 
seemed  worried  at  the  idea.  No,  she  is  n't 
picked  out.  I'm  going  to  hunt  for  her 
in  the  stars.  Why?  Have  you  some  one 
selected?" 

"Law,  no!"  returned  Miss  Upton,  flush 
ing.  "It  is  a  —  yes,  it  is  a  girl  I've  come 
to  talk  to  you  about,  though."  The  visitor 
stammered  and  grew  increasingly  confused 
as  she  proceeded.  "I  thought  —  I  didn't 
know  —  the  girl  needs  somebody  —  yes,  to 
—  to  look  after  her  and  I  thought  your 
mother  bein'  —  bein'  all  alone  and  the  house 
so  big,  she  might  have  some  use  for  a  — 
young  girl,  you  know,  a  kind  of  a  helper; 
but  Charlotte  says  the  girl  would  fall  in 
love  with  you  and  —  and  — "  Miss  Upton 
paused,  drawing  her  handkerchief  through 
and  through  her  hands  and  looking  anxiously 
at  her  companion  who  leaned  his  head  back 
still  farther  and  laughed  aloud. 

"Come,  now,  that's  the  most  sensible 
speech  that  ever  fell  from  Lottie's  rosebud 
lips."  He  sat  up  and  viewed  his  visitor, 
who,  in  spite  of  her  crimson  embarrassment, 
was  gazing  at  him  appealingly.  "I  don't 
believe,  Mehit,  my  dear,  that  you've  begun 

66 


THE  GOOD   FAIRY 


at  the  beginning,  and  you'll  have  to,  you 
know,  if  you  want  legal  advice." 

"I  never  do,  Ben;  I  am  so  stupid.  I  al 
ways  do  begin  right  in  the  middle,  but  now 
I'll  go  back.  You  know  I  went  to  the  city 
yesterday." 

"You  and  the  umbrella." 

"Yes,  and  I  was  mad  at  myself  for 
luggin'  it  around  all  the  mornin'  when  the 
weather  turned  out  so  pleasant  and  I  had 
so  many  other  things;  but  never  mind"  — 
the  narrator  tightened  her  lips  impres 
sively —  "that  umbrella  was  all  right." 

"Sure  thing,"  put  in  Ben.  "How  could 
you  have  rescued  the  girl  without  it?" 

Miss  Upton's  eyes  widened.  "How  did 
you  know  I  did?" 

"The  legal  mind,  you  know,  the  legal 
mind." 

"Oh,  but  I  did  n't  rescue  her  near  enough, 
not  near  enough,"  mourned  Miss  Mehit- 
able.  "I  must  go  on.  I  got  awful  tired 
shoppin'  and  I  went  into  a  restaurant  for 
lunch.  I  got  set  down  to  one  table,  but  it 
was  so  draughty  I  moved  to  another  where 
a  young  girl  was  sittin'  alone.  A  man,  a 
homely,  long-necked  critter  made  for  that 

67 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

place  too,  but  I  got  there  first.  I  don't 
know  whether  I  'm  glad  or  sorry  I  did.  Ben, 
she  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  this  world." 

Miss  Upton  paused  to  see  if  this  solemn 
statement  awakened  an  interest  in  her  lis 
tener. 

"Maybe,"  he  replied  placidly;  "but  then 
there  are  the  stars,  you  know." 

".She  had  lots  of  golden  hair,  and  dark 
eyes  and  lashes,  with  kind  o'  long  dark 
corners  to  'em,  and  a  sad  little  mouth  the 
prettiest  shape  you  ever  saw.  We  got  to 
talkin'  and  she  told  me  about  herself.  It 
was  like  a  story.  She  had  a  cruel  step 
mother  who  did  n't  want  her  around,  so 
kept  her  away  at  school,  and  a  handsome, 
extravagant  father  without  enough  back 
bone  to  stand  up  for  her;  and  on  top  of 
everything  he  died  suddenly.  Her  step 
mother  had  money  and  she  put  this  poor 
child  in  a  cheap  lodgin'-house  tellin'  her  to 
find  a  job,  and  she  herself  went  calmly  off 
travelin'.  This  poor  lamb  tried  one  place 
after  another,  but  her  beauty  always  stood 
in  her  way.  I'm  ashamed  to  speak  of  such 
things  to  you,  Ben,  but  I  've  got  to,  to  make 
you  understand.  She  said  she  wondered  if 

68 


THE   GOOD   FAIRY 


there  were  any  good  men  in  this  world.    She 
was  in  despair." 

Ben's  eyes  twinkled,  but  his  lips  were 
serious  as  he  returned  his  friend's  valiant 
gaze. 

"Her  name  is  Geraldine  Melody.  Did 
you  ever  hear  such  a  pretty  name?"  Miss 
Upton  scrutinized  her  listener's  face  for 
some  stir  of  interest. 

"I  never  did.  Your  girl  was  a  very  com 
plete  story-teller.  You  blessed  soul!  and 
you've  had  all  these  thrills  over  that!" 
Ben  leaned  forward  and  took  his  companion's 
hand  affectionately.  "I  did  n't  believe  even 
you  would  fall  for  drug-store  hair,  darkened 
eyes,  and  that  chestnut  story.  What  did 
the  fair  Geraldine  touch  you  for?" 

Miss  Upton  returned  his  compassionate 
gaze  with  surprise  and  indignation.  "She 
didn't  touch  me.  What  do  you  mean? 
Why  should  n't  she  if  she  wanted  to  ?  I  tell 
you  her  eyes  and  her  story  were  all  the  truth, 
Ben  Barry.  I  ain't  a  fool." 

"No,  dear,  no.  Of  course.  But  how 
much  did  you  give  her?" 

"Give  her  what?" 

"Money." 

69 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"I  did  n't  give  her  any,  poor  lamb."  Into 
Miss  Mehitable's  indignant  eyes  came  a 
wild  look.  "I  wonder  if  I'd  ought  to  have. 
I  wonder  if  it  would  have  helped  any." 

Ben  gave  a  low  laugh.  "I'll  bet  she  had 
the  disappointment  of  her  young  life:  to 
tell  you  that  yarn,  and  tell  it  so  convinc 
ingly,  and  yet  dear  old  Mehit  never  rose 
to  the  bait!" 

Miss  Upton  glared  at  him  and  pulled  her 
hand  away.  He  leaned  back  and  resumed 
his  former  easy  attitude.  "When  are  you 
going  to  reach  the  umbrella?"  he  asked. 

"I've  passed  it,"  snapped  Miss  Mehitable, 
angry  and  baffled.  "I  kept  that  long- 
necked,  gawky  man  off  with  it,  pretty  near 
tripped  him  up  so's  I  could  get  to  the  table 
with  that  poor  child." 

Ben  shook  his  head  slowly.  "To  think 
of  it!  That  good  old  umbrella  after  a  well- 
spent  life  to  get  you  into  a  trap  like  that. 
All  the  same"  —  he  looked  admiringly  at 
his  companion  —  "there's  no  hay-seed  in 
your  hair.  The  dam-sell  —  pardon,  Mehit, 
it's  all  right  to  say  damsel,  isn't  it?  — 
did  n't  think  best  to  press  things  quite  far 
enough  to  get  into  your  pocket-book.  You 

70 


THE   GOOD   FAIRY 


call  it  a  rescue.  Why  do  you?  Geraldine 
might  have  got  something  out  of  the  gawk." 

Miss  Upton's  head  swung  from  side  to 
side  on  her  short  neck  as  she  gazed  at  her 
friend  for  a  space  in  defiant  silence.  His 
smile  irritated  her  beyond  words. 

"Look  here,  Ben  Barry,"  she  said  at  last; 
"young  folks  think  old  folks  are  fools.  Old 
folks  know  young  folks  are.  Now  I  want 
to  find  that  girl.  I  see  you  won't  help  me, 
but  you  can  tell  me  where  to  get  a  detective." 

Ben  raised  his  eyebrows.  "Hey-doddy- 
doddy,  is  it  as  serious  as  that?  Geraldine 
is  some  actress.  It  would  be  a  good  thing 
if  you  could  let  well  enough  alone;  but  I 
suspect  you'll  have  to  find  her  before  you 
can  settle  down  and  give  Lottie  that  at 
tention  to  which  she  has  been  accustomed. 
I  will  help  you.  We  won't  need  any  detec 
tive.  You  shall  meet  me  in  town  next  Sat 
urday.  We'll  go  to  that  restaurant  and 
others.  Ten  to  one  we'll  find  her." 

"She's  left  the  city,"  announced  Miss  Up 
ton  curtly. 

"She  told  you  so?"  the  amused  question 
was  very  gentle. 

"That  cat  of  a  stepmother  had  a  relative 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

on  a  farm,  some  place  so  God-forsaken  they 
could  n't  keep  help,  so  the  cat  kindly  told 
the  girl  she  was  desertin'  that  if  other  jobs 
failed  she  could  go  there.  I've  told  you 
why  the  other  jobs  did  fail,  and  it's  the 
truth  whether  you  believe  it  or  not,  and  at 
the  time  I  met  her  the  poor  child  had  given 
up  hope  and  decided  to  take  that  last 
resort." 

Ben  bit  his  lip.  "Back  to  the  farm, 
Geraldine!" 

Miss  Upton's  head  again  swung  from  side 
to  side  and  again  she  glared  at  her  com 
panion. 

"It  would  surprise  you  very  much  if  we 
were  to  meet  her  in  town  next  Saturday, 
would  n't  it?"  he  added. 

"I'd  be  so  glad  I'd  hug  her  beautiful 
little  head  off,"  returned  Miss  Mehitable 
fervently. 

"Do  that,  dear,  if  you  must.  It  would  be 
better  than  bringing  her  out  here  to  be  a 
companion  to  mother."  Miss  Upton's  eyes 
were  so  fiery  that  Ben  smothered  his 
laugh.  "I'm  nearly  sure  that  Miss  Melody 
would  n't  suit  mother  as  a  companion." 

"I  would  n't  allow  her  to  come  anywhere 
72 


THE  GOOD   FAIRY 


near  you,"  returned  Miss  Upton  hotly.  "I 
s'pose  you  think  she  did  n't  go  to  the  farm. 
Well,  I  saw  her  go  myself  with  that  very 
gawk  I  tripped  up  with  my  umbrella." 

"Of  course  you  did,"  laughed  Ben;  "and 
pretty  mad  he  was  doubtless  when  she  told 
him  she  had  n't  got  a  rise  out  of  you.  Those 
people  usually  work  in  pairs.  We'll  prob 
ably  see  him,  too." 

Miss  Upton  clutched  the  iron  table  in 
front  of  her  and  swung  herself  to  her  feet 
with  superhuman  celerity. 

"Ben  Barry,  you're  entirely  too  smart  for 
the  law!"  she  said.  "You'll  never  stoop 
to  try  a  case.  You'll  know  everything  be 
forehand.  You're  a  kind  of  a  mixture  of  a 
clairvoyant  and  a  Sherlock  Holmes,  you  are. 
If  you'd  seen  as  I  did  that  beautiful,  touch- 
in'  young  face  turn  to  stone  when  that  raw- 
boned,  cross-eyed  thing  looked  at  her  so  — 
so  hungry-like,  and  took  possession  of  her  as 
though  he  was  only  goin'  to  wait  till  they 
got  home  to  eat  her  up  —  and  I  let  'em  go!" 
Miss  Upton  reverted  to  her  chief  woe.  "I 
let  'em  go  without  fmdin'  out  where,  when 
in  all  the  world  that  poor  child  had  nobody 
but  me,  a  country  jake  she  met  in  a  restau- 

73 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

rant,  to  care  whether  that  Carder  picked  her 
bones  after  he  got  her  to  his  cave." 

"That  what?" 

"Carder,  Rufus  Carder.  The  one  thing 
I  have  got  is  his  hateful  name.  He  lives 
'way  off  on  a  farm  somewheres,  but  knowin' 
his  name,  a  detective  ought  to  — " 

Ben  Barry  leaned  forward  in  his  chair  and 
his  eyes  ceased  to  twinkle. 

"Rufus  Carder?  If  it  is  the  one  I'm 
thinking  of,  he's  one  of  the  biggest  repro 
bates  in  the  country." 

"That's  him,"  returned  Miss  Upton  with 
conviction.  "At  first  I  sized  him  up  as 
just  awkward  and  countrified;  but  the  way 
he  looked  at  the  child  and  the  way  he  spoke 
to  her  showed  he  wa'n't  any  weaklin'." 

"I  should  say  not.  He's  as  clever  as 
they  make  'em  and  he  has  piles  of  money  — 
other  people's  money.  He  can  get  out  of 
the  smallest  loophole  known  to  the  law. 
He  always  manages  to  save  his  own  skin 
while  he  takes  the  other  fellow's.  Rufus 
Carder."  Ben  frowned.  "I  wonder  if  it 
can  be." 

Miss  Upton  received  his  alert  gaze  and 
looked  down  on  him  in  triumph. 

74 


THE  GOOD   FAIRY 


"You're  wakin'  up,  are  you?"  she  said. 
"I  guess  I  don't  meet  you  in  town  next 
Saturday,  do  I?  Oh,  Ben"  —  casting  her 
victory  behind  her —  "do  you  mean  to  say 
you  know  where  he  lives?" 

"I  know  some  of  the  places." 

"That  farm"  —  eagerly  —  "do  you  know 
that?" 

"Yes.     Pretty  nearly.     I  can  find  it." 

"And  you  mean  you  will  find  it?  You 
dear  boy!  And  you'll  take  me  with  you, 
and  we'll  bring  her  back  with  us.  I  can 
make  room  for  her  at  my  house." 

"Hold  on,  Mehitable.  We're  dealing  with 
one  of  the  biggest  rascals  on  the  top  side 
of  earth.  If  he  wants  to  keep  the  girl  it 
may  not  be  simple  to  get  her.  At  any  rate, 
it's  best  for  me  to  go  alone  first.  You  write 
a  note  to  her  and  I  '11  take  it  and  bring  back 
news  to  you  of  the  lay  of  the  land." 

Miss  Upton  gazed  in  speechless  hope  and 
gratitude  at  the  young  man  as  he  rose  and 
paced  up  and  down  the  piazza  in  thought. 

"Oh,  Ben,"  she  ejaculated,  clasping  her 
hands,  "to  think  that  I'm  in  time  to  get 
you  to  do  this  before  you  kill  yourself  in 
that  aeroplane!" 

75 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,  my  dear  Mehit," 
he  returned.  "Remember  that,  unlike  the 
zebra,  they  are  tamable  in  captivity  — 
you'll  be  soaring  with  me  yet." 

Miss  Upton  laughed  in  her  relief.  "If 
all  they  want  is  somethin'  heavier  than  air, 
I'm  it"  she  returned. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  NEW  HELP 

GERALDINE,  begging  to  be  excused  from 
supper  on  the  night  of  her  arrival,  drank 
the  glass  of  milk  that  Mrs.  Carder  gave  her, 
and  at  an  early  hour  laid  an  aching  head  on 
her  pillow  and  slept  fitfully  through  the 
night. 

A  heavy  rain  began  to  fall  and  continued 
in  the  morning.  She  still  felt  singularly 
numb  toward  the  world  and  life  in  general. 
Her  own  room  was  bad  enough,  but  outside 
it  was  the  bare  landscape,  the  desolate 
house,  and  its  vulgar  host. 

Mrs.  Carder,  under  orders  from  her  son, 
presented  herself  early  with  a  tray  on  which 
was  coffee  and  toast,  and  the  girl  had  more 
than  a  twinge  of  compunction  at  being 
waited  on  by  the  worn,  wrinkled  old  woman. 

"This  is  Sunday,"  she  said.  "I  feel  very 
tired.  If  you  will  let  me  stay  here  and  be 
lazy  until  this  afternoon,  I  should  like  it, 
but  only  on  condition  that  you  promise  not 

77 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

to  bring  me  anything  more  or  take  an/ 
trouble  for  me." 

"Just  as  you  say,"  responded  the  old 
woman;  and  she  reported  this  request  below 
stairs.  Her  son  received  it  with  a  nod. 

All  the  afternoon  he  hovered  near  the 
parlor  with  its  horsehair  furniture,  and  about 
four- thirty  the  young  girl  came  downstairs. 
He  greeted  her  effusively  and  she  endeav 
ored  to  pass  him  and  go  to  the  kitchen. 
The  most  lively  sensation  of  which  she  was 
conscious  now  was  compassion  for  the  old 
woman  who  had  brought  up  her  breakfast. 

"No,  don't  go  out  there,"  said  Rufus 
decidedly.  "Ma  is  givin'  the  hands  their 
supper.  You'd  only  be  in  the  way.  Sit 
down  and  take  it  easy  while  you  can." 

The  speaker  established  the  reluctant 
guest  in  a  slippery  rocking-chair  of  ancient 
days.  The  atmosphere  seemed  to  indicate 
that  the  room  had  wakened  from  a  long 
sleep  for  her  reception. 

Rufus  sat  down  near  her.  "We're  a 
democratic  bunch  here,"  he  said,  eying  his 
companion  as  if  he  could  never  drink  in 
enough  of  her  youth  and  beauty.  "We 
usually  eat  all  together,  but  distinguished 

78 


THE  NEW  HELP 


company,  you  know,"  he  smiled  and  winked 
at  her  while  she  listened  to  the  clatter  of 
knives  and  forks  at  the  long  table  in  the 
kitchen.  "We'll  have  our  supper  when  they 
get  through." 

"I  should  think  the  servants  might  relieve 
your  mother  of  that  work,"  said  Geraldine. 

"Servants!  Hired  girl,  do  you  mean? 
Nice  time  we'd  have  tryin'  to  keep  'em  here. 
Oh,  Ma's  pert  as  a  cricket.  She  don't  mind 
the  work.  That's  real  kindness,  you  know, 
to  old  folks,"  he  continued.  "All  a  mistake 
to  put  'em  on  the  shelf.  They're  lots 
happier  doin'  the  work  they're  accustomed 
to." 

"To-morrow  I  shall  be  helping  her," 
said  Geraldine  mechanically,  her  whole  soul 
shrinking  from  the  gloating  expression  in  her 
companion's  face. 

"Depends  on  how  you  do  it,"  he  responded 
protectingly.  "I  don't  want  those  hands 
put  in  dishwater." 

"I  shall  do  whatever  your  mother  will  let 
me  do,"  responded  the  girl  quickly.  "That 
is  what  I  came  for.  I  've  come  here  to  earn 
my  living." 

Rufus  Carder  laughed  leniently,  and  lean- 
79 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

ing  forward  would  have  patted  her  hand, 
but  she  drew  it  away  with  a  quick  motion 
which  warned  him  to  proceed  slowly.  In 
her  eyes  was  an  indignant  light. 

"You  can  do  about  as  you  like  with  me, 
little  girl,"  he  said  fondly.  "If  it's  a  dish 
washer  for  Ma  that  you  want,  why,  I'll 
have  to  get  one,  that's  all." 

"I  heard  that  you  have  found  it  very 
difficult  to  get  help  out  here." 

"I  always  get  whatever  I  go  after,"  was 
the  reply.  And  the  guest  had  a  fleeting 
consolation  in  the  thought  that  she  might 
make  easier  the  lot  of  that  wrinkled  slave  in 
the  kitchen. 

"You  don't  know  yet  all  I  can  do  for  you," 
pursued  Carder,  and  Geraldine  writhed  un 
der  the  self-satisfied  gaze  which  seemed  to  be 
taking  stock  of  her  person  from  head  to  foot; 
"nor  what  I  intend  to  do,"  he  added.  "My 
wife  was  a  plain  sort  of  woman  and  I've 
been  wrapped  up  in  business.  See  that 
little  buildin'  down  there  side  o'  the  road? 
That's  my  office.  I  can  see  everybody 
who  comes  in  or  goes  out  of  the  place  and 
can  keep  my  hand  on  everything  that's 
doin'  on  the  farm.  I've  held  my  nose 

80 


THE  NEW  HELP 


pretty  close  to  the  grindstone  and  I've 
earned  the  right  to  let  up  a  little.  I  know 
you  find  things  very  plain  here,  but  I'm 
goin'  to  give  you  leave  to  do  it  all  over.  I 
intend  you  shall  have  just  what  you  want, 
little  girl." 

Every  time  Rufus  Carder  used  that  ex 
pression,  "little  girl,"  a  strange  sensation 
of  nausea  crept  again  around  Geraldine's 
heart.  It  was  as  if  he  actually  caressed 
her  with  those  big-jointed  and  not  over- 
clean  hands.  She  still  remembered  the 
pleading  of  his  mother  not  to  make  him 
angry. 

"Your  mother  should  be  your  first 
thought,"  she  said. 

"Well,  that's  all  right,"  he  returned. 
"Of  course  she's  gettin'  along  and  I  put 
water  in  the  kitchen  for  her  this  year;  but 
it's  legitimate  for  young  folks  to  begin 
where  old  folks  leave  off.  If  it  wa'n't  so, 
how  would  there  be  any  improvement  in  the 
world?  You  and  I'll  make  lots  o'  trips  to 
town  until  you  get  this  old  house  to  lookin' 
just  the  way  you  want  it.  I'm  sorry  Dick 
Melody  can't  come  out  and  see  us  here." 

Tears  sprang  to  the  girl's  eyes.  Tears  of 
81 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

grief  and  an  infinite  resentment  that  this 
coarse  creature  could  so  familiarly  name 
her  father. 

Mrs.  Carder  here  appeared  to  announce 
that  their  supper  was  ready,  so  no  more 
was  said  until  in  the  next  room  they  found 
a  small  table  set  for  two. 

"Have  you  eaten  your  supper,  Mrs. 
Carder?"  Geraldine  asked  of  the  harassed 
and  heated  little  woman  who  was  hurrying 
back  and  forth  loaded  with  dishes. 

"Yes,  much  as  I  ever  do,"  was  the 
reply.  "I  get  my  meals  on  the  fly."  Then, 
meeting  her  son's  lowering  expression,  she 
hastened  to  add,  "I  get  all  I  want  that 
way,  you  know.  It's  the  way  I  like  the 
best." 

"It  is  n't  the  way  you  must  do  while  I'm 
here,"  responded  Geraldine  firmly.  "You're 
tired  out.  Come  and  sit  down  with  your 
son  and  let  me  wait  on  you  while  you 
rest." 

"Don't  that  sound  daughterly?"  re 
marked  Rufus  exultantly.  "Perhaps  I 
didn't  know  how  to  pick  out  the  right  girl. 
What?"  His  mother,  relieved  by  his  re 
turned  complacence,  became  voluble  with 

82 


THE  NEW  HELP 


reassurances;  and  Geraldine,  seeing  that 
Rufus's  hand  was  approaching  her  arm, 
hastily  slid  into  her  chair  and  he  took  the 
opposite  place. 

"Did  n't  I  tell  you  we'd  make  up  for  the 
lunch  that  great  porpoise  cheated  us  out  of 
yesterday?"  he  said  in  high  good-humor. 

Geraldine's  desolate  heart  yearned  after 
the  kind  friend  so  soon  lost. 

"That'll  do,  Ma.  I  guess  the  grub's  all 
on  the  table.  Go  chase  yourself.  Miss 
Melody '11  pour  my  coffee." 

"Don't  wash  any  of  the  dishes,  Mrs. 
Carder,  please,  until  I  get  out  there,"  said 
Geraldine. 

The  old  woman  disappeared  with  one  last 
glance  at  her  son  whom  Geraldine  eyed 
with  sudden  steadiness. 

He  smiled  at  her  with  semi-toothless 
fondness. 

"Give  me  my  coffee,  little  girl.  I'm 
famished.  Is  n't  this  jolly  —  just  you  and 
me?" 

Geraldine  poured  the  coffee  and  handed 
him  the  cup;  then  she  spoke  impressively. 

"Mr.  Carder,  this  is  the  last  time  this 
must  happen.  I  refuse  to  sit  down  and 

83 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

make  a  waitress  of  your  old  mother.  If 
you  insist  on  showing  her  no  consideration, 
I  shall  go  away  from  here  at  once." 

Her  companion  laughed,  quietly,  but  with 
genuine  amusement  and  admiration. 

"By  ginger,"  he  said,  "when  you're  mad, 
you're  the  handsomest  thing  above  ground. 
Go  away!  That's  a  good  one.  Don't  I  tell 
you,  you  can  do  anything  with  me?"  The 
speaker  paused  to  drink  his  coffee  noisily, 
keeping  his  eyes  on  the  exquisite,  stiff  little 
mouth  opposite  him.  "I  know  I  ain't  any 
dandy  to  look  at.  I've  been  too  busy 
rollin'  up  the  money  that's  goin'  to  make 
you  go  on  velvet  the  rest  o'  your  days: 
you're  welcome  to  change  all  that,  too. 
Yes,  indeed.  Never  fear.  When  we  do 
over  the  house  we're  goin'  to  do  over  yours 
truly,  too.  I'll  do  exactly  as  you  say  and 
you  can  turn  me  out  a  fashion  plate  that'll 
be  hard  to  beat." 

"I'm  not  interested  in  turning  you  out  a 
fashion  plate,"  returned  Geraldine  coldly. 
"I'm  interested  in  making  the  lot  of  your 
mother  easier,  that  is  all." 

Rufus  regarded  her  thoughtfully  and 
nodded.  It  penetrated  his  brain  that  he 

84 


THE  NEW  HELP 


had  been  going  too  fast  with  this  disdainful 
beauty.  He  rather  admired  her  for  her 
disdain;  it  added  zest  to  the  certainty  of 
her  capitulation. 

"Have  it  your  own  way,  little  girl,"  he 
said  leniently.  "I  know  you're  tired,  still. 
You're  not  eatin'.  Eat  a  good  supper  and 
to-night  take  another  long  sleep  and  to 
morrow  everything  will  look  different." 

Geraldine  still  regarded  him  with  an  un 
faltering  gaze.  "We  are  strangers,"  she 
said.  "I  wish  you  not  to  call  me  f little 

girl!'" 

Rufus  smiled  at  her  admiringly.  "It's 
hard  for  me  to  be  formal  with  Dick  Melody's 
girl,"  he  said.  "What  shall  I  call  you? 
My  lady?  That's  all  right,  that's  what 
you  are.  My  lady.  Another  cup  o'  coffee 
please,  my  lady.  It  tastes  extra  good  from 
your  fair  hands.  We'll  do  away  with  this 
rocky  tea-set,  too.  You're  goin*  to  have 
eggshell  China  if  you  want  it;  and  of  course 
you  do  want  it,  you  little  princess." 

His  extreme  air  of  proprietorship  had 
several  times  during  this  interview  convinced 
Geraldine  that  her  host  had  been  drinking. 
In  spite  of  his  odious  frank  admiration  and 

85 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

the  glimpses  that  he  gave  of  some  disquiet 
ing  power,  Geraldine  scorned  him  too  much 
to  be  afraid  of  him,  and  while  she  doubted 
increasingly  that  it  would  be  possible  for 
her  to  remain  here,  she  determined  to  see 
what  the  morning  would  bring  forth.  The 
man's  passion  for  acquisition,  evidenced 
by  his  showmanship  of  his  accumulations, 
might  again  absorb  him  after  the  first  flush 
of  her  novelty  wore  off.  She  would  enter 
into  the  work  of  the  house,  she  would  never 
again  sit  tete-d-tete  with  him,  and  he  should 
find  it  impossible  to  see  her  alone.  His 
mother  had  warned  her  that  he  was  terrible 
when  he  was  angry,  and  Geraldine  suspected 
that  the  mother  always  felt  the  brunt  of  his 
wrath.  She  must  be  careful,  therefore,  not 
to  make  the  lot  of  that  mother  harder  while 
endeavoring  to  ease  it. 

As  soon  as  she  could,  Geraldine  escaped  to 
the  kitchen  where  she  found  Mrs.  Carder 
at  her  wet  sink. 

"I  asked  you  to  wait  for  me,  Mrs.  Carder," 
she  said. 

The  old  woman  looked  up  from  her  steam 
ing  pan,  her  countenance  full  of  trouble. 

"Now,  Rufus  don't  want  you  to  do  any- 
86 


THE  NEW  HELP 


thing  like  this,  Miss  Melody,  and  Pete's 
helpin'  me,  you  see." 

Geraldine  turned  and  saw  a  boy  who  was 
carrying  a  heavy,  steaming  kettle  from  the 
stove  to  the  sink,  and  she  met  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  her.  She  recognized  him  at  once  as 
the  driver  of  the  motor  in  which  she  and  her 
host  had  come  from  the  station.  As  the 
chauffeur  he  had  appeared  like  a  boy  of 
ordinary  size,  but  now  she  saw  that  his  arms 
were  long  and  his  legs  short  and  bowed,  and 
in  height  he  would  barely  reach  her  shoulder. 

The  dwarf  had  a  long,  solemn,  tanned 
face  and  a  furtive,  sullen  eye.  Geraldine 
remembered  Rufus  Carder's  rough  tone  as 
he  had  summoned  him  at  the  station.  He 
was  perhaps  a  wretched,  lonely  creature 
like  herself.  She  met  his  look  with  a  smile 
that,  directed  toward  his  master,  would 
have  sent  Rufus  into  the  seventh  heaven 
of  complacence. 

"I  have  met  Pete  already,"  she  said, 
kindly.  "He  drove  us  up  from  the  station. 
I'm  glad  you  are  helping  Mrs.  Carder,  Pete. 
She  seems  to  have  too  much  to  do." 

The  boy  did  not  reply,  but  he  appeared 
unable  to  remove  his  eyes  from  Geraldine's 

87 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

kind   look,   and   careless   of  where  he  was 
going  he  stumbled  against  the  sink. 

"Look  out,  Pete!"  exclaimed  his  mis 
tress.  "What  makes  you  so  clumsy?  You 
nearly  scalded  me.  I  guess  he's  tired,  too." 
The  old  woman  sighed.  "Everybody  picks 
on  Pete.  They  all  find  something  for  him 
to  do." 

"Then  run  away  now,"  said  Geraldine, 
still  warming  the  boy's  dull  eyes  with  her 
entrancing  smile,  "and  let  me  take  your 
place.  I  can  dry  dishes  as  fast  as  anybody 
can  wash  them." 

The  dwarf  slowly  backed  away,  and  dis 
appeared  into  the  woodshed,  keeping  his 
gaze  to  the  last  on  the  sunny-haired  love 
liness  which  had  invaded  the  ugliness  of 
that  low-ceiled  kitchen. 

Geraldine  seized  a  dish- towel,  and  Mrs. 
Carder,  her  hands  in  the  suds,  cast  a  troubled 
glance  around  at  her. 

"Rufus  won't  like  it,"  she  declared  tim 
orously. 

"Why  should  you  say  anything  so  foolish? 
What  did  I  come  out  here  for?" 

The  old  woman  looked  around  at  her 
with  a  brief,  strange  look. 

88 


THE  NEW  HELP 


"You  could  n't  get  help,"  went  on  Ger- 
aldine,    "and    so    as    I    needed    a    home  I 


came." 


"Is  that  what  they  told  you?" 

"Yes.  That  is  what  my  stepmother  told 
me,  and  I  see  it  is  true.  You  seem  to  have 
no  one  here  but  men." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Carder.  "It  — it 
has  n't  been  a  healthy  place  for  girls."  She 
cast  a  glance  toward  the  door  as  she  spoke 
in  a  lowered  voice. 

"Dreadfully  lonely,  you  mean?"  inquired 
Geraldine,  unpleasantly  affected  by  the 
other's  timidity.  "The  woman  has  no 
spirit,"  she  added  mentally  with  some  im 
patience. 

Mrs.  Carder  looked  full  in  her  eyes  for  a 
silent  space;  then:  "Rufus  can  do  anything 
he  wants  to  —  anything,"  she  whispered. 

Geraldine,  in  the  act  of  wiping  a  coarse, 
thick  dinner-plate,  met  the  other's  gaze 
with  a  little  frown. 

"Don't  give  in  to  him,  my  dear,"  went 
on  the  sharp  whisper.  "You  are  too  beauti 
ful,  too  young.  He's  crazy  about  you,  so 
you  be  firm.  Don't  give  in  to  him.  Insist 
on  his  marrying  you!" 

89 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

The  thick  dinner-plate  fell  to  the  floor 
with  a  crash. 

"Marrying  him!"  ejaculated  Geraldine. 

"Sh!  Sh!  Oh,  Miss  Melody,  hush!" 

Geraldine  began  to  shiver  from  head  to 
foot.  The  lover-like  words  and  actions  of 
her  host  seemed  rushing  back  to  memory 
with  all  the  other  repulsive  experiences  of 
past  weeks. 

The  kitchen  door  opened  and  the  master 
appeared. 

"Who's  smashing  the  crockery?"  he  in 
quired. 

"It's  your  awkward  help,"  rejoined  Ger 
aldine,  her  teeth  chattering  as  she  stooped 
to  pick  up  the  plate. 

"I  knew  you  weren't  fit  for  this  kind 
of  thing,"  he  said  tenderly,  approaching, 
to  the  girl's  horror.  "Where's  that  con 
founded  Pete?" 

"I  sent  him  away,"  said  Geraldine,  in 
dignant  with  herself  for  trembling.  "I 
wanted  to  do  this;  it  is  what  I  came  for. 
The  plate  did  n't  break." 

The  man  regarded  her  flushed  face  with 
a  gaze  that  scorched  her. 

"Break  everything  in  the  old  shack 
90 


THE  NEW  HELP 


if  you  want  to  —  that  is,  all  but  one 
thing!" 

He  stood  for  half  a  minute  more  while 
his  mother  scalded  a  new  pan  full  of 
dishes. 

"What  is  that  poem,"  he  went  on  — 
"What's  that  about,  'Thou  shalt  not  wash 
dishes  nor  yet  feed  the  swine'?  Well,  well, 
we  '11  see  later." 

Geraldine's  heart  was  pounding  too  hard 
to  allow  her  to  speak.  She  seized  another 
plate  in  her  towel,  his  mother,  her  wrinkled 
lips  pursed,  kept  her  eyes  on  her  dishpan, 
so  with  a  pleased  smile  at  his  own  apt 
quotation  the  master  reluctantly  removed 
his  presence  from  the  room. 

"I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  Mrs.  Carder," 
said  Geraldine  breathlessly,  meanwhile  hold 
ing  her  plate  firmly  lest  another  crash  bring 
back  the  owner,  "but  I  can't  stay  here.  I 
must  go  away  to-morrow." 

Her  companion  gave  a  fleeting  glance 
around  at  the  girl,  and  her  withered  lips 
relaxed  in  a  smile  as  she  shook  her  head. 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't,  my  dear." 

At  the  unexpected  reply  Geraldine's  heart 
thumped  harder. 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"I  certainly  shall,  Mrs.  Carder.  I'm 
sorry  not  to  stay  and  help  you,  but  it's  im 
possible." 

"It  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  go,"  was 
the  colorless  reply.  "Nobody  goes  away 
from  here  till  Rufus  is  ready  they  should; 
then  they  leave  whether  they  have  any 
place  to  go  to  or  not.  It's  goin'  to  be  dif 
ferent  with  you.  I  can  see  that.  You 
need  n't  be  scared  by  what  I  said,  a  minute 
ago.  You  are  safe.  You've  got  a  home 
for  life.  I  only  hope  you  won't  let  him 
send  me  away."  The  old  woman  again 
turned  around  to  Geraldine  and  her  tired 
old  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Nothing  should  be  too  good  for  you 
with  all  your  son's  money,"  rejoined  Ger 
aldine  hotly. 

Her  panic-stricken  thought  was  centered 
now  on  one  idea.  Escape.  The  night  was 
closing  in.  The  clouds  had  cleared  away. 
The  stretches  of  fields  in  all  directions,  the 
lack  of  neighbors,  the  horrors  of  the  old 
woman's  implications,  all  weighed  on  the 
girl  like  a  crushing  nightmare.  The  dishes 
at  last  put  away,  she  bade  the  weary 
old  woman  good-night,  and  apprehensively 

92 


THE  NEW  HELP 


looking  from  side  to  side  stole  to  the 
stairway  without  encountering  anyone  and 
mounting  to  her  dreary  chamber  she  locked 
the  door. 

She  hurried  to  the  window  and  looked 
out. 

A  half-moon  in  the  sky  showed  her  that 
the  distance  down  was  too  far  to  jump. 
She  might  sprain  or  break  one  of  those 
ankles  which  must  go  fast  and  far  to 
night. 

Packing  her  belongings  back  in  her  bag 
she  sat  down  to  wait.  Gradually  all  sounds 
about  the  house  ceased.  Still  she  waited. 
The  minutes  seemed  hours,  but  not  until 
her  watch  pointed  to  midnight  did  she  put 
on  her  hat  and  jacket  and  slip  off  her 
shoes. 

Then  going  to  the  door  she  gradually 
turned  the  key.  The  process  was  remark 
ably  noiseless.  If  only  the  hinges  were  as 
friendly.  Very,  very  slowly  she  turned  the 
knob  and  very,  very  slowly  opened  the  door. 
Not  a  sound. 

When  the  opening  was  wide  enough  to 
admit  her  body  she  was  gliding  through, 
when  her  stockinged  foot  struck  something 

93 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

soft.  She  thought  it  was  a  dog  lying  across 
the  threshold,  and  only  by  heroic  effort  she 
controlled  the  cry  that  sprang  to  her  lips. 
The  dark  mass  half  rose,  and  by  the  faint 
moonlight  she  could  see  two  long,  suddenly 
out-flung  arms.  "Pete,"  she  whispered, 
"Pete,  you  will  let  me  pass!" 

"I'm  sorry,  lady.  He'd  kill  me.  He'd 
tear  me  to  pieces,"  came  back  the  whisper. 

"Please,  Pete,"  desperately,  "I'll  do  any 
thing  for  you.  Please,  please!" 

For  answer  the  long  arms  pushed  her 
back  through  the  open  door.  Another  door 
opened  and  Rufus  Carder's  nasal  voice 
sounded.  "You  there,  Pete?" 

A  sonorous  snore  was  the  only  answer. 
For  a  minute  that  other  door  remained  open, 
but  the  rhythmical  snoring  continued,  and 
at  last  the  latch  was  heard  to  close. 

Geraldine  again  cautiously  opened  her 
door  a  crack. 

"Pete,"  she  whispered. 

The  dwarf  snored. 

"Please  talk  to  me,  Pete.  Pm  sure  you 
are  a  kind  boy."  The  pleading  whis 
per  received  no  answer  beyond  the  heavy 
breathing. 

94 


THE  NEW  HELP 


"I  want  to  ask  your  advice.  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  what  I  can  do.  I'm  sure  you 
don't  love  your  master." 

A  sort  of  snort  interrupted  the  snoring 
which  then  went  on  rhythmically  as  before. 

Geraldine  closed  her  door  noiselessly.  She 
sat  down  white  and  unnerved.  She  was  a 
prisoner,  then.  For  a  time  her  mind  was  in 
such  a  whirl  that  she  was  unable  to  form  a 
plan. 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  head. 

"I  must  try  to  sleep  if  I  can  in  this  hideous 
place.  Then  to-morrow  I  may  be  able  to 
think." 

Locking  the  door,  she  drew  the  bureau 
against  it;  then  she  undressed  and  fell  into 
bed.  Her  youth  and  exhaustion  did  the 
rest.  She  slept  until  morning. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  DWARF 

"You,  Pete,"  said  his  master,  approach 
ing  the  pump  where  the  boy  was  performing 
his  morning  ablutions,  "what  was  the  noise 
I  heard  in  Miss  Melody's  room  last  night?" 

"Dunno,"  sullenly. 

"Well,  you'd  better  know.  I'll  skin  you 
alive  if  anything  happens  to  her." 

"How  —  how  could  I  help  it  if  she  jumps 
out  the  winder?" 

Carder  smiled.  "You're  thinkin'  of  some 
body  else.  She  went  to  the  hospital.  If 
Miss  Melody  hurts  herself,  we'll  keep  her 
here.  She  won't  do  that,  though,  and  I 
hold  you  accountable  for  anything  else  she 
does.  Night  and  day,  remember.  You've 
got  to  know  where  she  is  all  the  time. 
You  understand?" 

The  dwarf  grunted  and  combed  his  thick, 
tousled  hair  with  his  fingers. 

"Watch  yourself  now.  You'll  pay  if  any 
thing  goes  wrong.  What  was  that  noise  I 
heard?  Out  with  it!" 

96 


THE  DWARF 


The  dwarf  grunted  his  reply.  "She 
moved  the  furniture  ag'in'  the  door,  I 
guess." 

"Oh,  that  was  it." 

Rufus  laughed  and  turned  toward  the 
house.  j 

The  hired  men  had  had  their  breakfast 
and  gone  to  the  fields  and  the  drudge  in  the 
kitchen  was  prepared  for  the  arrival  of  her 
son  and  his  guest. 

Geraldine  came  downstairs  fresh  from 
sleep  and  such  a  cold  bath  as  was  obtainable 
from  the  contents  of  a  crockery  pitcher. 
Rufus's  eyes  glittered  as  he  beheld  her. 

"Well,  my  little  —  I  mean  my  lady,  you 
look  wonderful.  I  guess  there  was  some 
sleep  in  the  little  old  bed  after  all;  but  you 
shall  have  down  to  sleep  on  if  you  want  it." 

Geraldine  regarded  him. 

."I  don't  see  how  you  expected  I  could 
sleep  when  you  let  a  dog  lie  outside  my 
door,  a  dog  with  the  nightmare,  I  should 
judge,  snoring  and  snorting.  Be  sure  he 
is  not  there  to-night.  He  frightened  me." 

"Too  bad,  too  bad,"  returned  Rufus;  "but 
you  see  you  slept,  or  you  could  n't  look  like  a 
fresh  rosebud  as  you  do  this  morning;  and 

97 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

you'll  get  used  to  good  old  Sport.  He's  a 
splendid  watch-dog." 

Geraldine  turned  to  her  hostess. 

"I  don't  know  what  your  hours  are,  Mrs. 
Carder  —  whether  five,  or  six,  or  seven  is 
over-sleeping,  but  I'm  ashamed  not  to  have 
been  down  here  to  help  you  get  breakfast. 
It  shan't  happen  again." 

"Don't  fret  about  that,"  said  Rufus, 
"Sleep  as  long  as  you  want  to,  little  girl. 
It's  good  for  your  complexion." 

Geraldine  flatly  refused  to  sit  down  to 
breakfast  unless  Mrs.  Carder  was  also  at  the 
table,  so  the  old  woman  wiped  her  hands  on 
her  apron  and  took  her  place  between  her 
son  and  the  beautiful  girl,  and  Geraldine 
jumped  up  and  fetched  and  carried  when 
anything  was  needed. 

Rufus  watched  this  proceeding  discon 
tentedly.  "We've  got  to  start  in  new, 
Ma,"  he  said.  "The  Princess  Geraldine 
and  me  are  goin'  to  do  this  house  over,  and 
we'll  get  some  help,  too  —  help  that  knows 
how;  the  stylish  kind,  you  know.  Geraldine 
thinks  the  time  has  come  for  you  to  hold 
your  hands  the  rest  o'  your  days." 

"Just  as  you  say,  Rufus,"  returned  his 
98 


THE  DWARF 


mother  meekly,  nibbling  away  at  the  bacon 
on  her  plate  and  feeling  vastly  uncomfort 
able. 

"What  she  says  goes;  eh,  Ma?" 

"Just  as  you  say,  Rufus,"  repeated  the 
mother. 

A  light  was  glowing  in  Geraldine's  eyes. 
It  was  day.  She  was  young  and  strong. 
The  world  was  wide.  She  laughed  at  her 
fears  of  the  night.  The  right  moment  to 
escape  would  present  itself.  Rufus  would 
have  to  go  to  the  city,  and  even  if  he  refused 
to  leave  without  her,  once  in  town  she  could 
easily  give  him  the  slip.  Perhaps  that  was 
going  to  prove  the  best  solution  after  all. 

"Your  trunk  came  last  night,"  he  said, 
when  at  last  the  three  rose  from  the 
breakfast-table.  "You  can  show  Pete  where 
you  want  it  put." 

Geraldine  tried  not  to  betray  the  eager 
ness  with  which  she  received  this  permission. 

The  dwarf's  strong  arms  carried  her 
modest  trunk  up  the  stairs  as  easily  as  if 
it  had  been  a  hatbox.  She  feared  Carder 
might  follow  them,  but  he  did  not. 

"Pete,"  she  said,  low  and  excitedly,  as 
soon  as  they  reached  her  room  and  he  had 

99 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

deposited  his  burden,  "you  will  help  me!  I 
know  you  are  going  to  be  the  one  to  help  me 
get  away  from  here." 

The  dwarf  shook  his  head.  "Then  I'd 
be  killed,"  he  answered,  but  he  gazed  at  her 
admiringly.  "I've  got  the  marks  of  his 
whip  on  me  now." 

"Why  do  you  stay?"  asked  Geraldine 
indignantly. 

"He  says  nobody  else  would  give  me 
work.  I'm  too  ugly.  He  says  I'd  starve." 

"That  isn't  so!"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "I 
will  help  you."  The  consciousness  of  the 
futility  of  the  promise  swept  over  her  even 
as  she  made  it.  Who  was  she  to  give  help 
to  another! 

The  dwarf,  gazing  fascinated  at  her  glow 
ing  face,  saw  her  eyes  suddenly  fill.  A 
heavy  step  sounded  on  the  stair. 

"Move  it,  move  the  trunk,  Pete,"  she 
whispered,  dragging  at  it  herself. 

Rufus  Carder  appeared  at  the  door  just 
as  the  dwarf  was  shoving  the  trunk  to  an 
other  part  of  the  room. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked.  "Seems 
to  me  you  take  a  long  time  about  it." 

"I'm  always  so  undecided,"  said  Ger- 
100 


THE  DWARF 


aldine.  "I  believe  I  will  have  it  back  under 
the  window  after  all,  Pete." 

So  back  under  the  window  the  boy  lifted 
the  trunk,  his  master  meanwhile  looking 
suspiciously  from  one  to  the  other.  It  was 
quite  in  the  possibilities  that  his  fair  guest 
might  try  to  corrupt  that  dog  which  at  night 
lay  outside  her  door;  but  the  dog  well  knew 
that  no  corner  of  the  earth  could  hide  him 
from  Rufus  Carder  if  he  played  him  false, 
and  the  master  felt  tolerably  safe  on  that 
score. 

All  that  day  Geraldine  watched  to  observe 
the  habits  of  those  around  her.  She  found 
that  the  small  yellow  building  near  the  drive 
which  Carder  had  pointed  out  to  her  was 
the  place  where  he  spent  most  of  his  time: 
the  cave  of  the  ogre  she  named  it.  The 
driveway  came  in  from  a  road  which  passed 
the  farm  and  no  one  entered  it  except  per 
sons  who  had  business  with  the  owner. 

Again  the  girl  marveled  at  the  character 
of  the  country  surrounding  the  farmhouse. 
Not  a  tree  provided  a  hiding-place  or  shade 
for  man  or  beast.  Stones  had  been  removed 
and  built  into  low  walls  that  intersected  the 
fields.  Even  in  the  lovely  late  spring  with 

101 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

verdant  crops  growing  there  were  no  lines 
of  beauty  anywhere.  The  ugly  yellow  office 
building  reared  itself  from  a  strip  of  grass 
where  dandelions  fought  for  their  rights, 
but  a  wide  cement  walk  led  to  its  door. 

"Come  down  and  see  my  den,"  said 
Rufus  late  that  afternoon.  "The  washing 
dishes  and  feeding  swine  can  come  later  if 
you  are  determined  to  do  it.  It's  a  great 
little  old  office,  that  is.  There's  more  busi 
ness  transacted  there  than  you  might  sup 
pose."  He  met  Geraldine's  grave  gaze,  and 
added:  "Many  a  profitable  half-hour  your 
father  has  spent  there.  Yes,  indeed,  Dick 
Melody  knew  which  side  his  bread  was  but 
tered  on,  and  I  'm  in  hopes  of  being  as  good  a 
friend  to  his  daughter  as  I  was  to  him." 

Geraldine  yielded  to  the  invitation  in  si 
lence.  She  wished  to  discover  every  possible 
detail  which  could  make  her  understand  how 
her  father,  as  popular  with  men  as  with 
women,  and  with  every  custom  of  good  man 
ners,  had  often  sought  this  brute.  Doubt 
less  it  was  to  obtain  money.  Probably  her 
father  had  died  in  debt  to  the  man.  Prob 
ably  it  was  that  fact  which  gave  her  jailer 
his  evident  certainty  that  he  had  her  in  his 

102 


THE  DWARF 


power.  Her  father  was  dead.  Was  sthere 
anything  in  the  law  that  could  hold  her,  a 
girl,  responsible  for  his  debts  ?  It  was  surely 
only  a  matter  of  days  before  she  could  make 
her  escape  and  meanwhile  she  would  try  not 
to  let  disgust  overpower  her  reason.  She 
was  not  sorry  to  be  asked  to  see  the  abode 
of  the  spider,  in  the  center  of  which  he  sat 
and  watched  the  approach  from  any  direc 
tion  of  those  who  dragged  themselves  of 
necessity  into  his  web.  Let  him  tell  what 
he  would  about  her  father.  She  wished  to 
know  anything  concerning  him,  of  which 
Carder  had  proof.  She  would  not  allow  her 
poise  to  be  shaken  by  lies. 

It  was  bright  day  and  the  office  was  but  a 
few  hundred  yards  from  the  house.  All  the 
same,  as  they  walked  along,  she  was  glad  to 
hear  a  sharp  metallic  clicking  a  little  dis 
tance  behind  them,  and  turning  her  head, 
to  see  Pete  ambling  along  with  his  clumsy, 
bow-legged  gait,  dragging  a  lawn-mower. 
Little  protection  was  this  poor  oaf  with  the 
scars  of  his  master's  whip  upon  him,  but 
Geraldine  had  seen  a  doglike  devotion  light 
up  the  dull  eyes  in  those  few  minutes  up  in 
her  room,  and  in  spite  of  the  dwarf's  hope- 

103 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

less  words  she  felt  that  she  had  one  friend 
in  this  place  of  desolation.  She  expected 
the  master  would  drive  the  boy  away  when 
the  mower  began  to  behead  the  dandelions, 
but  Rufus  appeared  unaware  of  the  monoto 
nous  sound. 

"Pretty  ship-shape,  eh?"  he  said  when 
they  were  inside  the  office.  He  indicated 
the  open  desk  with  its  orderly  files  of  papers 
and  well-filled  pigeon-holes.  Placing  him 
self  in  the  desk-chair  he  drew  another  close 
for  his  visitor. 

Geraldine  moved  the  chair  back  a  little 
and  sat  down,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  telephone 
at  Carder's  left.  That  instrument  connect 
ing  with  the  outside  world,  the  world  of 
freedom,  fascinated  her.  If  she  could  but 
get  ten  minutes  alone  with  it!  She  had  some 
friends  of  her  school  days,  and  the  pride 
which  had  hitherto  prevented  her  from  com 
municating  with  them  was  all  gone,  im 
mersed  in  the  flood  of  fear  and  repulsion 
which,  despite  all  her  reasoning,  swept  over 
her  periodically  like  a  paralysis.  Rufus 
leaned  back  in  his  seat  and  surveyed  his 
guest.  She  looked  very  young  in  the  soft, 
pale-green  dress  she  wore. 

104 


THE  DWARF 


"Here  I  am,  you  see,  master  of  all  I  survey, 
and  of  a  good  deal  that  I  don't  survey  — 
except  with  my  mind's  eye."  He  shook  his 
head  impressively.  "I  can  do  a  lot  for  any 
body  I  care  for."  He  pulled  his  check-book 
toward  him.  "I  can  draw  my  check  for 
four  figures,  and  I'll  do  it  for  you  any  time 
you  say  the  word.  How  would  you  like  to 
have  a  few  thousands  to  play  with?" 

Geraldine  removed  her  longing  gaze  from 
the  telephone  and  looked  at  her  hands.  She 
could  not  meet  the  insupportable  expression 
of  his  greedy  eyes. 

"Two  figures  would  do,"  she  said,  "if 
you  would  allow  me  to  go  to  town  and  spend 
it  as  I  please." 

"Why,  my  beauty,"  he  laughed,  "you  can 
spend  any  amount,  any  way  you  please." 

"Alone?"  asked  Geraldine,  her  suddenly 
eager  eyes  looking  straight  into  his,  but  in 
stantly  shrinking  away. 

"Of  course  not,"  he  returned  cheerfully. 
"I  ought  to  get  something  for  my  money, 
ought  n't  I?" 

She  was  silent,  and  he  watched  her  as  if 
making  up  his  mind  how  to  proceed. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  changed 
105 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

tone,  "  I  don't  know  what  I  've  got  to  gain  by 
beating  about  the  bush.  I've  shown  you 
plain  enough  that  I'm  crazy  about  you  and 
I've  told  you  that  I  always  get  what  I  go 
after." 

Geraldine's  heart  began  to  beat  wildly. 
She  kept  her  eyes  on  her  folded  hands 
and  the  extremity  of  her  terror  made  her 
calm. 

"I'm  goin'  to  treat  you  as  white  as  ever  a 
girl  was  treated;  but  I  want  you,  and  I  want 
you  soon.  I  know  we're  more  or  less 
strangers,  but  you  can  get  acquainted  with 
me  as  well  after  marriage  as  before.  I 
know  all  this  ain't  regulation.  A  girl  ex 
pects  to  be  courted,  but  I'll  court  you  all 
your  life,  little  girl." 

The  lawn-mower  clicked  through  the  si 
lence  in  which  Geraldine  summoned  the 
power  to  speak.  Indignation  helped  to 
steady  her  voice.  She  looked  up  at  her 
companion,  who  was  leaning  forward  in  his 
chair  waiting  for  her  first  word. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  marry  you,  Mr. 
Carder,"  she  said,  trying  to  hold  her  voice 
steady,  "and  since  your  feeling  for  me  is  so 
extreme,  I  intend  to  leave  here  immediately. 

1 06 


THE  DWARF 


You  speak  as  if  you  had  bought  me  as  you 
might  have  bought  one  of  your  farm  im 
plements,  but  these  are  modern  days  and  I 
am  a  free  agent." 

Carder  did  not  change  his  position,  his 
elbows  leaning  on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  his 
fingers  touching. 

"I  have  bought  you,  Geraldine,"  he  an 
swered  quietly. 

She  started  up  from  her  chair,  her  indig 
nation  bursting  forth.  "I  knew  it!"  she 
exclaimed.  "My  father  died  owing  you 
money  and  you  have  determined  that  I  shall 
pay  his  debts  in  another  coin!  He  would 
turn  in  his  grave  if  he  heard  you  make  such 
a  cruel  demand." 

The  frank  horror  and  repulsion  in  the  girl's 
eyes  made  the  blood  rise  to  her  companion's 
temples. 

He  pointed  to  her  chair.  "Sit  down," 
he  said.  "You  don't  understand  yet." 

She  obeyed  trembling,  for  she  could 
scarcely  stand.  His  unmoved  certainty  was 
terrifying.  "Your  father  was  a  very  popu 
lar  man.  His  vanity  was  his  undoing. 
Juliet  was  too  smart  to  let  him  throw  away 
her  money,  so  rather  than  lose  his  reputation 

107 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

as  a  good  sport,  rather  than  not  keep  up  his 
end,  he  looked  elsewhere  for  the  needful,  and 
he  came  to  me,  not  once,  but  many  times. 
At  last  he  wore  out  my  patience  and  the 
Carder  spring  ran  dry,  so  far  as  he  was  con 
cerned;  then,  Geraldine"  —  the  narrator 
paused,  the  girl's  dilated  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  him  —  "then,  my  proud  little  lady, 
handsome  Dick  Melody  fell.  He  began 
helping  himself." 

"What  do  you  mean  —  helping  himself?" 
The  girl  leaned  forward  and  her  hands 
tightened  until  the  nails  pressed  into  her 
flesh. 

Rufus  Carder  slipped  his  fingers  into  an 
inside  pocket  and  drew  forth  two  checks 
which  he  held  in  such  a  way  that  she  could 
read  them. 

"You  don't  know  my  signature,"  he  went 
on,  "but  that  is  it.  Large  as  life  and  twice 
as  natural.  Yes  "  —  he  regarded  the  checks 
—  "twice  as  natural.  I  could  n't  have  done 
them  better  myself." 

Geraldine's  hands  flew  to  her  heart,  her 
eyes  spoke  an  anguished  question. 

"Yes,"  Rufus  nodded,  "Dick  did  those." 
The  speaker  paused  and  slipped  the  checks 

1 08 


THE  DWARF 


back  into  his  pocket.  "I  breathed  fire  when 
I  discovered  it,  and  then  very  strangely 
something  occurred  which  put  the  fire  out." 
Again  he  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  chair- 
arms,  and  bent  toward  the  wide  eyes  and 
parted  lips  opposite.  "I  saw  you  sitting 
in  the  park  one  day,"  he  went  on  slowly, 
"you  got  up  and  walked  and  laughed  with  a 
girl  companion.  I  found  out  who  you  were. 
I  went  to  your  father,  who  was  nearly 
crazy  with  apprehension  at  the  time,  and  I 
told  him  there  was  no  girl  on  earth  for  me 
but  you,  and  that  if  he  would  give  you  to  me 
I  would  forgive  his  crime.  I  did  n't  want  a 
forger  for  a  father-in-law.  It  was  arranged 
that  this  month  he  should  bring  you  out  here 
and  make  his  wishes  known.  His  reputa 
tion  was  safe.  Even  Juliet  suspected  noth 
ing.  He  is  still  mourned  at  his  clubs  as  the 
prince  of  good  fellows;  but  his  sudden  death 
prevented  him  from  puttin'  your  hand  in 


mine." 


A  silence  followed,  broken  only  by  the 
rasping  of  the  lawn-mower  and  Rufus  Carder 
watched  the  girl's  heaving  breast. 

"So  you  see,"  he  went  on  at  last,  "all  you 
have  to  do  to  save  your  father's  name  is  to 

109 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

sit  down  in  the  lap  of  luxury;  not  a  very 
hard  thing  to  do,  I  should  think.  You'll 
find  that  I  '11  take  —  ':  The  speaker  paused, 
for  another  sound  now  broke  in  upon  the 
click  of  the  lawn-mower,  an  increasingly 
sharp  noise  which  brought  him  to  his  feet 
and  to  one  of  the  many  windows  which  gave 
him  a  view  in  every  direction. 

A  motor-cycle  was  speeding  up  the  drive 
way. 

"That's  Sam  Foster  comin'  to  pay  his 
rent,"  he  said.  "There'll  be  many  a  one 
on  that  errand  along  about  now,"  he  declared 
with  satisfaction.  "Cheer  up,"  he  added, 
turning  back  to  the  pale  face  and  tremulous 
lips  of  the  young  girl.  "Your  father  was  n't 
the  first  fine  man  to  go  wrong;  but  they 
don't  all  have  somebody  to  stick  by  'em  and 
shield  'em  as  he  did.  The  more  you  think 
it  over,  the  more  — " 

The  motor-cycle  had  stopped  during  this 
declaration,  and  the  rider  now  stepped  into 
the  office-door.  Geraldine,  her  hands  still 
unconsciously  on  her  heart,  gazed  at  the 
newcomer.  Could  it  be  that  Rufus  Carder 
had  a  tenant  like  this  youth?  The  well 
born,  the  well-bred,  showed  in  his  erect 

no 


THE  DWARF 


bearing  and  in  his  sunny  brown  eyes,  and 
the  smile  that  matched  them. 

The  owner  started  and  scowled  at  sight 
of  him. 

"Mr.  Carder,  I  believe,"  said  the  visitor. 

Rufus's  chair  grated  as  he  advanced 
to  edge  the  stranger  back  through  the 
door. 

"Your  business,  sir,"  he  said  roughly. 
"Can't  you  see  I'm  in  the  midst  of  an  in 
terview?" 

Ben's  eyes  never  left  those  of  the  young 
girl,  and  hers  clung  to  him  with  a  desperate 
appeal  impossible  to  mistake.  She  rose 
from  her  chair  as  if  to  go  to  him. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Carder,  and  I  won't  interrupt 
you.  I  '11  wait  outside.  I  came  to  see  Miss 
Melody  with  a  message  from  one  of  her 
friends  and  I'm  sure  from  the  description 
that  this  is  she."  The  young  fellow  bowed 
courteously  toward  Geraldine,  who  stood 
mute  drinking  in  the  inflections  of  his  voice; 
the  very  pronunciation  of  his  words  were 
earmarks  of  the  world  of  refinement  from 
which  she  was  exiled.  In  her  distraction 
she  was  unconscious  of  the  manner  in  which 
she  was  gazing  at  him  above  the  tumult  of 

in 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

grief  at  her  father's  double  treachery.  Her 
father  had  sold  her,  sold  her  in  cold  blood, 
and  her  life  was  ruined.  Had  the  visitor  in 
his  youth  and  strength  and  grace  been  Sir 
Galahad  himself,  she  could  not  have  yearned 
more  toward  his  protection. 

To  Ben  she  looked,  as  she  stood  there, 
like  a  lovely  lily  in  a  green  calyx,  and  her 
expression  made  his  hands  tingle  to  knock 
flat  the  scowling,  middle-aged  man  with 
the  unkempt  hair  and  the  missing  tooth 
who  was  uneasily  edging  him  farther  and 
farther  out  the  door. 

"Miss  Melody  don't  wish  to  receive  calls 
at  present  and  you  can  tell  her  friend  so," 
said  Rufus  in  the  same  rough  tone.  "She 
don't  wear  black,  but  she's  in  mournin'  all 
the  same.  Her  father  died  recently.  Ain't 
you  in  mournin',  Geraldine?"  He  turned 
toward  the  girl. 

She  had  dropped  her  hands  and  seized 
the  back  of  her  chair  for  support. 

"Yes,"  she  breathed  despairingly. 

"Can't  I  see  you  for  a  few  minutes,  Miss 
Melody?"  said  Ben  over  the  wrathful  Car 
der's  shoulder.  "Miss  Upton  sent  me  to 
you.  My  name  is  Barry." 

112 


THE  DWARF 


"No,  you  can't,  and  that's  the  end  of  it!" 
shouted  Rufus. 

Ben's  smile  had  vanished.  His  eyes  had 
sparks  in  them  as  he  looked  down  at  the 
shorter  man. 

"Not  at  all  the  end  of  it,"  he  returned. 
Miss  Melody  decides  this.  Can  you  give 
me  a  few  minutes  ? " 

As  he  addressed  her  he  again  met  the  won 
derful,  dark-lashed  eyes  that  were  beseech 
ing  him. 

Rufus  Carder  looked  around  at  the  girl 
his  thin  lips  twitching  in  ugly  fashion. 

"  You  can  tell  him,  then,  if  he  won't  take 
it  from  me,"  he  said,  "and  mind  you're 
quick  about  it.  We  ain't  ready  here  for 
guests.  Miss  Melody  don't  want  to  receive 
anybody.  She's  tired  and  she's  recuper- 
atin'.  Tell  him  so,  Geraldine." 

The  girl's  lips  moved  at  first  without  a 
sound;  then  she  spoke: 

"I'm  very  tired,  Mr.  Barry,"  she  said 
faintly.  "Please  excuse  me." 

Rufus  turned  back  to  the  guest. 

"Good-day,  sir,"  he  ejaculated  savagely. 

Ben  stood  for  a  silent  space  undecided. 
His  fists  were  clenched.  Geraldine,  meeting 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

his  glowing  eyes,  shook  her  head  slowly. 
Her  keen  distress  made  him  fear  to  make 
another  move. 

"At  some  other  time,  then,  perhaps," 
he  said,  tingling  with  the  increasing  desire 
to  knock  down  his  host  and  catch  this  girl  up 
in  his  arms. 

"Yes,  at  some  other  time,"  said  Rufus, 
speaking  with  a  sneer.  "Tell  Miss  Upton 
that  Mrs.  Carder  may  see  her  later." 

A  tide  of  crimson  rushed  over  Ben's  face. 
He  saw  that  there  must  be  a  pressure  here 
that  he  could  not  understand,  and  again 
Geraldine's  fair  head  and  wonderful  eyes 
signaled  him  a  warning.  He  could  not  risk 
increasing  her  suffering. 

"Good-day,  sir,"  repeated  Rufus;  and  the 
visitor  stepped  down  from  the  office-door 
in  silence  and  out  to  his  machine. 

Carder  turned  back  to  Geraldine,  who 
met  his  angry  gaze  with  despairing  eyes. 

"What  have  I  to  hope  for  from  you  when 
you  treat  a  stranger  so  inexcusably?"  she 
said  in  a  low,  clear  voice  that  had  a  sharp 
edge. 

"Let  me  run  this,"  said  Rufus  with 
bravado.  "You'll  find  out  later  what  you'll 

114 


Tingling  with  the  Increasing  Desire  to  knock  down  his 
Host  and  catch  this  Girl  up  in  his  Arms 


THE  DWARF 


get  from  me,  and  it  will  be  nothin'  to  com 
plain  of  when  once  you're  Mrs.  Carder. 
You  can  have  that  fat  porpoise  or  any  other 
woman  come  to  see  you,  and  when  you're 
ridin'  'em  around  in  the  new  car  I'm  goin' 
to  get  you,  they'll  be  green  with  envy. 
You'll  see.  Let  me  run  this." 

His  absorption  in  Geraldine  had  dis 
tracted  Carder's  attention  from  the  fact 
that  he  was  not  hearing  the  departure  of  that 
most  satirically  named  engine  of  misery, 
"The  Silent  Traveler." 

He  strode  to  a  window  and  saw  Ben  Barry 
mounting  his  machine  close  to  where  Pete 
was  mowing  the  grass. 

He  hurried  to  the  door.  "Come  here, 
you  damned  coot!"  he  yelled.  And  Pete 
dropped  the  mower  and  ambled  up  to  the 
office-door. 

"What  did  that  man  want  of  you?"  he 
asked  furiously. 

"Wanted  to  know  the  shortest  road  to 
Keefe,"  replied  Pete  in  his  usual  sullen  tone. 

"You  lie!"  exclaimed  Rufus.  If  Ben 
Barry  had  looked  like  a  dusty  Sir  Galahad 
to  Geraldine,  he  had  looked  dangerously 
attractive  to  Carder,  who  cursed  the  luck 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

that  had  made  him  invite  the  girl  to  his 
office  on  this  particular  afternoon.  "You 
lie!"  he  repeated,  and  stepping  back  to  his 
desk  he  seized  a  whip  which  lay  along  one 
side  of  it. 

Geraldine  cried  out,  and  springing  for 
ward  grasped  his  arm.  He  paused  at  the 
first  voluntary  touch  he  had  ever  received 
from  her. 

"Don't  you  dare  strike  that  boy!"  she 
exclaimed  breathlessly. 

Carder  looked  down  at  the  white  horror 
in  her  face  and  in  her  shining  eyes. 

"I'm  goin'  to  get  the  truth  out  of  him," 
he  said,  his  mouth  twitching.  "You  go  up 
to  the  house." 

"I  will  not  go  up  to  the  house!  Put 
down  that  whip!  If  you  strike  Pete,  I'll 
kill  myself."  She  finished  speaking,  more 
slowly,  and  Rufus,  looking  down  into  her 
strangely  changed  look,  became  uneasy. 

"I  guess  not,"  he  said.  "You  go  up  to 
the  house." 

"I  mean  it,"  declared  Geraldine  in  a  low 
tone.  "What  have  I  to  live  for!  My  own 
father,  the  only  one  on  earth  I  had  to  love, 
has  sold  me  to  a  man  who  has  shown  himself 

116 


THE  DWARF 


a  ruffian.  One  thing  you  have  no  power  over 
is  my  life,  and  what  have  I  now  to  live  for!" 

Carder  dropped  the  whip.  There  was  no 
doubt  of  her  sincerity. 

"Now,  Geraldine,  calm  down,"  he  said, 
anxiety  sounding  through  his  bravado. 
"I'm  sorry  I  had  to  give  you  that  shock 
about  Dick;  but  it  was  your  own  high- 
headed  attitude  that  made  it  necessary. 
Calm  down  now.  I  won't  touch  Pete. 
What  was  it,  boy,"  he  went  on,  addressing 
the  dwarf  in  his  usual  tone  —  "What  did 
that  man  ask  you?" 

"The  shortest  way  to  Keefe,"  repeated 
the  dwarf.  His  eyes  were  fixed  dully  on 
Geraldine,  but  his  heart  was  thumping.  She 
had  said  she  would  kill  herself  if  his  master 
struck  him. 

Rufus  looked  at  him,  unsatisfied. 

"What  did  he  give  you?"  he  asked  after  a 
silence. 

Pete  put  his  hand  in  the  pocket  of  his 
coarse  blue  shirt  and  drew  out  a  half- 
dollar. 

"Humph!"    grunted   Rufus.     "You    can 

go." 

He  turned  back  to  Geraldine, 

117 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Is  one  allowed  to  write  letters  from 
here?"  she  asked. 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  replied  Rufus 
genially.  "What  a  foolish  question."  His 
face  had  settled  into  its  customary  lines. 

"Where  do  we  take  them?  Out  to  the 
rural-delivery  box?  I  should  like  to  write 
to  Miss  Upton.  She  was  very  kind  to  me." 

"No,  don't  mail  anything  there.  It  is  n't 
safe.  Right  here  is  the  place."  He  indi 
cated  a  box  on  his  desk.  "Drop  anything 
you  want  to  have  go  right  in  here.  I  '11  take 
care  of  it." 

"Yes,"  thought  Geraldine  bitterly.  He 
will  take  care  of  it. 

Another  motor-cycle  now  sped  into  the 
driveway  and  approached.  This  time  it  was 
the  tenant  Carder  had  expected,  and  Ger 
aldine  left  the  office  and  went  back  to  the 
house.  At  the  moment  when  she  stepped 
out  of  the  yellow  building,  Pete  ceased  mow 
ing  the  grass.  Looking  back  when  she  had 
traversed  half  the  distance,  she  saw  that  he 
was  following  her,  the  mower  clicking  after 
him. 

"Poor  slaves,"  she  thought  heavily.  "Poor 
slaves,  he  and  I!" 

118 


CHAPTER  VII 
A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

SITTING  down  at  the  supper  table  that  eve 
ning  was  a  severe  ordeal.  Geraldine  had 
angered  Carder,  but  she  had  also  frightened 
him,  and  he  was  mild  in  manner  and  words 
and  did  not  attempt  to  be  either  affectionate 
or  jocose.  Instead  he  dwelt  on  the  good 
promise  of  the  crops,  and  mentioned  having 
extended  the  time  of  payment  to  a  delin 
quent  tenant. 

Geraldine  forced  herself  to  eat  something, 
and  the  host  addressed  most  of  his  remarks 
to  his  mother,  who  was  again  compelled  to 
sit  at  table  and  allow  the  young  girl  to  do  the 
serving. 

"What  do  you  think  of  throwin'  out  a 
wing  or  two  or  say  a  bay  window  to  the 
house,  Ma,  while  we're  refurnishin' ? "  he 
asked  pleasantly. 

"Just  as  you  say,  Rufus,"  was  her  docile 
response.  "I  think,  though,  Miss  Ger 
aldine  would  like  a  bathroom  better." 

119 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Bathroom,  eh?"  returned  Carder,  regard 
ing  the  girl's  stiffly  immobile  face  and  down 
cast  eyes.  "It  would  mean  a  lot  of  expense, 
but  what  Geraldine  says  goes.  I  can  stand 
the  damage,  I  guess." 

No  word  from  Geraldine.  Rufus  was 
made  thoroughly  uneasy  by  her  rigid  pallor. 
He  blamed  himself  for  not  having  waited 
longer  to  produce  his  trump  card  and  clinch 
his  possession  of  her. 

His  own  dreams  were  troubled  that  night 
and  long  in  coming.  Geraldine,  as  soon  as 
the  dishes  were  dried  and  put  away,  went 
up  to  her  room  and  locked  the  door.  She 
sat  down  to  think,  and  strangely  accom 
panying  the  paralyzing  discovery  of  her 
father's  downfall  was  the  memory  of  the 
tall  stranger  with  the  dusty  clothes  and 
gallant  bearing.  She  shut  out  the  memory 
of  his  delightful  speech,  his  speaking  eyes, 
and  the  way  he  towered  above  Rufus  and 
held  himself  in  check  for  her  sake. 

"For  my  sake!"  she  repeated  to  herself 
bitterly.  "They  are  all  alike  —  men.  He 
would  be  just  the  same  as  the  other  at  close 
quarters.  Some  have  no  veneer  like  this 
boor,  and  some  have  the  polish,  but  they 

129 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

are  all  the  same  underneath.  Even  Father, 
poor  Father." 

Geraldine  felt  hot,  slow  tears  begin  to 
scald  her  eyes.  The  last  time  she  had 
cried  she  had  been  with  Miss  Upton  and 
felt  her  hearty,  motherly  sympathy.  That 
young  man  had  come  from  her.  Miss  Up 
ton  was  thinking  of  her.  The  tears  came 
faster  now  under  the  memory  of  the  kind 
ness  of  her  chance  acquaintance  on  the  day 
—  it  seemed  months  ago — that  she  had  left 
the  world  and  entered  upon  this  living 
death. 

Miss  Upton's  messenger  would  return  to 
her  and  tell  of  his  fruitless  quest  and  de 
scribe  Rufus  Carder,  and  she  knew  how 
that  kind  heart  would  ache;  but  Mr.  Barry 
would  also  tell  her  that  her  young  friend 
had  repulsed  him  and  would  discourage  her 
from  further  effort.  Geraldine  knew  that 
no  letter  from  the  outside  would  be  allowed 
to  reach  her,  nor  would  any  be  allowed  to 
go  out  from  her,  until  she  had  paid  the 
ghastly  price  which  her  father's  protection 
necessitated. 

She  did  not  know  how  long  she  sat  on 
that  hard  chair  in  the  ugly  room  that  night. 

121 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

She  only  knew  how  valiantly  she  struggled 
to  stifle  the  sobs  that  wrenched  her  slight 
body.  Early  in  the  evening  she  had  heard  a 
soft  impact  against  her  door,  which  she  knew 
meant  that  the  watchdog  was  in  his  place. 

Her  kerosene  lamp  was  burning  low,  when 
again  a  slight  sound  against  her  door  made 
her  look  that  way  apprehensively  and  wish 
that  she  had  barricaded  it  as  on  the  night 
before. 

Something  white  caught  her  eye.  It  was 
paper  being  slowly  pushed  beneath  the  door 
and  now  an  envelope  was  revealed.  Ger- 
aldine  started  up  and  noiselessly  crept  to 
ward  it.  Seizing  it  she  carried  it  to  the 
light.  It  was  a  letter  addressed  to  herself: 

Miss  Gerddine  Melody 

And  down  in  the  left-hand  corner  were  the 
words  —  "Kindness  of  Mr.  Barry."  Across 
the  face  of  the  envelope  was  scrawled 
in  another  hand  these  words:  "Courage. 
Walk  in  meadow.  Wear  white." 

Geraldine  stared  at  this  with  her  swollen 
eyes,  the  aftermath  of  her  wild  weeping 
causing  convulsive  catches  in  her  throat 
which  she  stifled  automatically.  Turning 

122 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

the  envelope  over  she  saw  that  it  was  sealed 
clumsily  with  red  wax. 

Running  a  hairpin  through  the  flap  she 
opened  it  and  took  out  the  letter  with  trem 
bling  hands.  This  is  what  she  read: 

DEAR  Miss  MELODY: 

I  can't  help  worrying  about  you,  not 
knowing  what  you  found  when  you  got  to 
the  farm,  and  whether  Mr.  Carder  and  his 
mother  turned  out  to  be  the  kind  you  like 
to  live  with.  I've  wished  a  hundred  times 
that  I  'd  brought  you  home  with  me  instead 
of  letting  you  go,  because,  after  all  the  hard 
experiences  you  went  through,  I  wanted  to 
be  sure  that  you  found  care  and  protection 
where  you  was  going.  I  'm  poor  and  have 
only  a  small  place,  but  I  'd  have  found  some 
way  to  take  care  of  you. 

I  worried  so  much  about  it,  and  Mr. 
Carder,  the  little  I  saw  of  him  that  day  at 
the  hotel,  acted  so  much  as  if  he  owned  you, 
that  I  thought  it  would  be  just  as  well  to 
hear  what  a  lawyer  would  say;  so  I  went  to 
see  Benjamin  Barry.  He's  studying  to  be 
a  lawyer  and  he's  the  young  man  who  has 
consented  to  hunt  up  the  Carder  farm  and 

123 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

take  my  letter  to  you.  I  know  it  ain't 
etiket  to  seal  up  a  letter  you  send  by  hand, 
but  I'm  going  to  seal  this  with  wax  just  so 
you  '11  know  that  Ben  has  n't  read  it.  After 
your  experience  with  men  it  will  be  hard 
for  you  to  trust  any  man,  I'm  pretty  sure. 
So  I  just  want  to  tell  you  that  I've  known 
Ben  Barry  from  a  baby  and  he  's  the  cleanest, 
finest  boy  in  the  world.  You  can't  always 
tell  whether  he 's  in  fun  or  in  earnest,  be 
cause  he's  a  great  one  to  joke;  but  his  folks 
are  the  finest  that  you  could  find  anywhere. 
He  's  got  good  blood  and  he 's  been  brought 
up  with  the  greatest  care  and  expense.  If 
I  had  ten  daughters  I'd  trust  him  with 
them  all.  He  is  the  soul  of  honor  about 
everything,  so  don't  hesitate  to  tell  him 
just  how  you're  fixed.  If  you  are  happy 
and  contented,  that's  all  I  want  to  know; 
but  if  you  ain't  I  want  to  know  that  post 
haste,  for  I  shall  want  you  to  come  right 
here  to  me  at  Keefe.  Ben  will  tell  you  how 
to  come  and  you  can  tell  Mr.  Carder  that 
you  have  found  a  better  position.  Give  him 
a  week's  notice;  that's  honorable  and  long 
enough.  I  shan't  be  easy  in  my  mind  till 
Ben  gets  back,  and  he 's  so  good  to  go  for 

124 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

me  that  I  should  love  him  for  it  all  the  rest 
of  my  life  if  I  did  n't  already. 

Now,  good-bye,  dear  child,  and  be  per- 
fectly  frank  with  Ben. 

Your  loving  friend 
MEHITABLE  UPTON 

In  her  utter  despair  and  desolation  this 
homely  expression  of  affectionate  solicitude 
went  to  Geraldine's  heart  like  a  message 
from  heaven.  She  held  the  senseless  paper 
to  her  breast,  and  her  pulses  beat  fast  as 
she  read  again  those  words  scribbled  across 
the  face  of  the  envelope. 

They  meant  an  understanding  that  she 
was  not  a  free  agent.  They  meant  that  the 
young  knight  had  not  given  up.  He  could 
never  know  —  kind  Miss  Upton  must  never 
know  —  what  it  was  that  compelled  her,  and 
why  nothing  that  they  might  contrive  could 
save  her. 

Good  little  Pete  had  risked  brutal  treat 
ment  to  bring  her  this.  Her  heart  welled 
with  gratitude  toward  him.  She  felt  that 
she  could  continue  to  protect  him  to  a  de 
gree,  for  the  infatuation  of  their  master  gave 
her  power  to  that  extent. 

125 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

She  was  no  longer  pale.  Her  cheeks  were 
flushed,  her  sobs  ceased.  There  were  hearts 
that  cared  for  her.  Some  miracle  might  in 
tervene  to  save  her.  The  knight  was  a 
lawyer.  The  law  was  very  wonderful.  A 
sudden  shudder  passed  over  her.  What  it 
could  have  done  to  her  father  —  still  honored 
at  his  clubs  as  the  prince  of  good  fellows ! 

She  reviewed  her  situation  anew.  It  was 
established  that  she  was  a  prisoner.  Then 
in  order  to  obey  the  message  on  the  envelope 
she  must  follow  the  example  of  the  more 
ambitious  prisoners  and  become  a  trusty. 
Poor  Geraldine,  who  had  ceased  to  pray, 
began  to  feel  that  there  might  be  a  God 
after  all;  and  when  she  was  between  the 
coarse,  mended  sheets  of  her  bed  she  held 
Miss  Upton's  letter  to  her  breast  and 
thanked  the  unseen  Power  for  a  friend. 

When  she  awoke,  it  was  with  the  confused 
sense  that  some  happiness  was  awaiting  her. 
As  her  mind  cleared,  the  mental  atmosphere 
clouded. 

Did  not  any  hope  which  imagination  held 
out  mean  the  cruel  revenge  of  her  jailer? 
Could  she  betray  her  father  as  he  had  be 
trayed  her? 

126 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

She  dressed  and  went  downstairs  to  help 
Mrs.  Carder.  The  precious  letter  was 
against  her  breast. 

Pete  was  washing  at  the  pump.  She  did 
not  dare  approach  him  to  speak;  but  she 
soon  found  that  as  to  that  opportunities 
would  be  plentiful;  for  whenever  she  left 
the  house  she  had  a  respectful  shadow; 
never  close,  but  always  in  the  vicinity, 
and  remembering  yesterday  and  the  lawn- 
mower  she  now  realized  that  the  watchdog 
who  guarded  her  by  night  had  orders  to 
perform  the  same  office  by  day. 

Rufus  felt  some  relief  at  seeing  his  guest 
appear  this  morning.  His  dreams  would 
have  been  pleasanter  had  he  been  perfectly 
sure  that  she  would  not  in  her  youthful 
horror  and  despair  evade  him  in  the  one 
way  possible.  He  bade  her  good-morning 
with  an  inoffensive  commonplace.  He  had 
shot  his  bolt;  now  his  policy  must  be  soothing 
and  unexacting  until  her  fear  of  him  had 
abated  and  custom  had  reconciled  her  to 
her  new  life.  She  was  silent  at  breakfast, 
speaking  only  when  spoken  to,  and  observ 
ant  of  his  mother's  needs;  waiting  upon 
him,  too,  when  it  was  necessary. 

127 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"I  must  get  one  o'  these  reclinin'-chairs 
for  you,  Geraldine,"  he  said,  "and  put  it 
out  under  the  elm  tree.  Your  elm  tree,  we  '11 
have  to  call  it,  because  you've  saved  its 
life,  you  know." 

"It  is  nice  that  there  is  one  bit  of  shade 
here,"  she  replied.  "I  suppose  you  hang  a 
hammock  there  in  summer  for  your  mother." 

Rufus  grinned  at  his  parent,  who  was 
vastly  uncomfortable  under  the  new  regime 
of  being  waited  upon  by  a  golden-haired 
beauty. 

"How  about  it,  Ma?"  he  said.  "Did 
you  ever  lie  down  in  a  hammock  in  your 
life?  Got  to  do  it  now,  you  know.  Bay 
windows  and  hammocks  belong  together. 
We  got  to  be  stylish  now  this  little  girl's 
goin'  to  boss  us. 

"It's  a  sightly  day,  Geraldine.  How 
would  you  like  to  go  for  a  drive  and  see 
somethin'  of  the  country  around  here? 
It's  mighty  pretty.  You  seem  stuck  on 
trees.  I'll  show  you  a  wood  road  that's  a 
wonder." 

Geraldine  cringed,  but  controlled  herself. 
Renewed  contact  with  Rufus  was  inexorably 
crushing  every  reviving  hope  of  the  night. 

128 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

"I  think  it  would  be  a  refreshing  thing 
for  your  mother,"  she  answered. 

"No,  no,  indeed!"  exclaimed  the  old 
woman,  with  an  anxious  look  at  her  son. 
"I'm  scared  of  autos.  I  don't  want 
to  go." 

"Well,  you're  goin',  Ma,"  declared  Rufus, 
perceiving  that  Geraldine  would  as  yet  re 
fuse  to  go  alone  with  him,  and  considering 
that  as  ballast  in  the  tonneau  his  mother's 
presence  would  be  innocuous.  "This  little 
girl's  got  the  reins.  You  and  me  are  pas 
sengers.  Don't  forget  that." 

So  later  in  the  fresh,  lovely  spring  day, 
Mrs.  Carder,  wrapped  in  an  antiquated 
shawl  and  with  a  bonnet  that  had  to  be 
rescued  from  an  unused  shelf,  was  tucked 
into  the  back  seat  of  the  car. 

Rufus  held  open  the  front  door  for  Ger 
aldine,  and  though  she  hesitated  she  de 
cided  not  to  anger  him  and  stepped  in  to 
sit  beside  him.  He  did  all  the  talking  that 
was  done,  the  girl  replying  in  monosyllables 
and  looking  straight  before  her. 

"I  thought  I'd  stop  to  the  village,"  he 
said,  "and  wire  into  town  to  have  some  help 
sent  out.  How  would  you  word  it?" 

129 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"I  came  as  help,"  replied  Geraldine.  "I 
think  we  get  along  with  the  work  pretty 
well.  Pete  is  very  handy  for  a  boy.  Your 
mother  seems  to  dread  servants.  Don't 
send  for  anybody  on  my  account." 

The  girl's  voice  was  colorless,  and  she  did 
not  look  at  Rufus  who  regarded  her  un 
certainly. 

"All  right,"  he  said  at  last.  "Perhaps  it 
would  be  as  well  to  wait  till  some  day  we're 
in  town  and  you  can  talk  to  'em.  I'll  wire 
for  some  eats  anyway." 

When  they  reached  the  village  the  car 
stopped  before  the  telegraph-office.  Carder 
left  the  car,  and  at  the  mere  temporary 
relief  of  him  Geraldine's  heart  lightened. 
A  wild  wish  swept  through  her  that  she 
knew  how  to  drive  and  could  put  on  all  the 
power  and  drive  away,  even  kidnapping  the 
shrunken,  beshawled  slave  in  the  tonneau. 

But  the  thought  of  the  dusty  knight  in 
tervened.  If  she  were  going  to  betray  her 
father,  let  it  be  under  his  guidance  whatever 
that  might  be.  She  could  not  do  it,  though. 
She  could  not! 

A  man  loafing  on  the  walk  saw  Mrs. 
Carder  and,  stopping,  addressed  her  with 

130 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

some  country  greeting.  Geraldine  instantly 
turned  to  him. 

"Where  is  Keefe?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"What?"  he  returned  stupidly,  with  a 
curious  gaze  at  her  lovely,  eager  face. 

"Keefe.  The  village  of  Keefe.  Where 
is  it?" 

"Oh,  that's  yonder,"  said  the  man,  point 
ing.  "T'other  side  o}  the  mountain." 

She  turned  to  Mrs.  Carder.  "I  have  a 
friend  who  lives  there,  a  very  good  friend 
whom  I  would  like  to  see." 

She  made  the  explanation  lest  the  old 
woman  should  tell  her  son  of  her  eager 
question. 

Rufus  came  out,  nodded  curtly  to  the 
man  beside  his  machine,  jumped  in,  and 
drove  off. 

Geraldine  spoke.  "I'm  surprised  this 
country  seems  so  flat.  I  thought  it  would 
be  hilly  about  here." 

"Not  so  close  to  the  sea,"  replied  Carder. 
"There  is  what  they  call  the  mountain, 
though,  over  yonder."  He  jerked  his  head 
vaguely.  "Pretty  good-sized  hill.  Makes 
a  water-shed  that  favors  my  farm." 

Geraldine  appeared  to  listen  in  silence  to 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

the  monologue  that  followed  concerning  her 
companion's  prowess  as  a  self-made  man  and 
the  cleverness  with  which  he  had  seized  every 
opportunity  that  came  his  way.  Her  mind 
was  in  a  singular  tumult.  An  incoming 
wave  of  thought  —  the  reminder  that  she 
must  be  clever,  too,  and  earn  Carder's  con 
fidence  in  order  that  he  might  relax  his 
espionage  —  was  met  by  the  counter- 
consideration  that  if  she  disappointed  his  de 
sire  he  would  blast  her  father's  name.  Just 
as  happens  in  the  meeting  of  the  incoming 
and  outgoing  tide,  her  thoughts  would  be 
broken  and  fly  up  in  a  confusion  as  to  what 
course  she  really  wished  to  pursue.  By  the 
time  she  gained  the  privacy  of  her  own  room 
that  night,  she  felt  exhausted  by  the  contra 
dictions  of  her  own  beaten  heart  and  she 
sat  down  again  in  the  hard  chair,  too  dulled 
to  think. 

At  last  she  put  her  hand  in  her  bosom  and 
drew  out  her  letter.  She  would  feel  the 
human  touch  of  Miss  Upton's  kindliness 
once  again.  Even  if  she  gave  "her  body 
to  be  burned"  and  all  life  became  a  desert 
of  ashes,  one  star  would  shine  upon  her 
sacrifice,  the  affectionate  thought  of  this 

132 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

good  woman  who  had  made  so  much  effort 
for  her. 

She  closed  her  eyes  to  the  exhortation 
scribbled  on  the  envelope.  Whatever  plan 
the  tall  knight  had  in  mind,  it  was  certain 
that  her  escape  was  the  end  in  view.  Did 
she  wish  to  escape?  Did  she?  Could  she 
pay  the  cost?  What  happiness  would  there 
be  for  her  when  all  her  life  she  would  be 
hearing  in  fancy  the  amazement  at  her 
father's  crime,  the  gossip  and  condemnation 
that  would  go  the  rounds  of  his  associates. 

She  held  the  letter  to  her  sick  heart  and 
gazing  into  space  pictured  the  hateful  future. 

There  was  a  slight  stir  outside  her  door. 
Something  was  again  being  pushed  beneath 
it  by  slow  degrees.  Again  it  looked  like  an 
envelope,  but  this  time  the  paper  was  not 
white.  Geraldine  regarded  the  small  dusky 
square,  scarcely  discernible  in  the  lamplight, 
and  rising  went  toward  it. 

She  picked  up  the  much-soiled  object  by 
its  extreme  corner.  It  bore  no  address. 
She  believed  Pete  must  have  written  to  her, 
and  was  greatly  touched  by  the  thought 
that  the  poor  boy  might  wish  to  express  to 
her  his  sympathy  or  his  gratitude.  It  had 

133 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

been  a  brave  soul  who  stood  stolidly  before 
Rufus  Carder  and  refused  to  give  up  Miss 
Upton's  letter.  Moving  cautiously  and 
without  a  sound,  she  took  the  letter  to  the 
bureau,  and  holding  down  the  bent  and 
soiled  envelope  with  the  handle  of  her  hair 
brush,  she  again  used  the  woman's  universal 
utensil,  opened  the  seal,  and  drew  out  a 
letter.  Her  heart  suddenly  leaped  to  her 
throat,  for  it  was  her  father's  handwriting 
that  met  her  eye.  Unfolding  the  sheet,  and 
cold  with  dread,  she  began  to  read: 

MY  DEAR  GERRIE: 

If  this  letter  ever  reaches  you  I  shall  be 
dead.  The  heart  attacks  have  been  worse 
of  late  and  it  may  be  I  shall  go  off  suddenly. 
If  I  do,  I  want  to  get  word  to  you  which  if 
I  live  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  you  to 
read.  I  have  not  been  a  good  father  and 
I  deserve  nothing  at  your  hands.  The 
worst  mistake  of  all  those  that  I  have  made 
was  marrying  the  woman  who  has  shirked 
mothering  you;  and  after  I  am  gone  I  know 
you  have  nothing  to  expect  from  her.  I 
am  financially  involved  with  Rufus  Carder 
to  an  extent  that  gives  me  constant  anxiety. 

134 


A  MIDNIGHT  MESSAGE 

He  has  happened  to  see  you  and  taken  a 
violent  fancy  to  you,  and  this  fact  has  made 
him  withdraw  the  pressure  that  has  made 
my  nights  miserable.  He  has  been  trying 
to  persuade  me  to  let  you  come  out  here. 
He  knows  that  his  cousin  Juliet  is  not  at 
tached  to  you,  and,  since  seeing  me  in  one 
of  my  attacks  of  pain,  he  is  constantly  re 
minding  me  how  precarious  is  my  life  and 
that  if  he  had  a  daughter  like  you  she  should 
have  every  advantage  money  could  buy. 
He  is  a  rough  specimen  with  a  miserly 
reputation.  I  won't  go  into  the  occasions 
of  weakness  and  need  which  have  resulted 
in  his  power  over  me.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
he  may  bring  cruel  pressure  to  bear  on  you, 
and  I  want  to  warn  you  solemnly  not  to  let 
any  consideration  of  me  or  what  people  may 
say  of  me  influence  your  actions.  You  are 
young  and  beautiful,  and  I  pray  that  the 
rest  of  your  life  may  have  in  it  more  hap 
piness  than  your  childhood  has  known.  I 
have  interceded  with  Carder  for  Pete  several 
times,  winning  the  poor  fellow's  devotion. 
He  can't  read  writing  and  will  not  be 
tempted  to  open  this.  I'm  sure  he  will 
hide  it  and  manage  to  give  it  to  you  secretly 

135 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

4 

if  you  come  to  this  dreary  place.  My  poor 
child!  My  selfishness  all  rises  before  me 
and  the  punishment  is  fearful.  If  there  is  a 
God,  may  He  bless  you  and  guard  you,  my 
innocent  little  girl. 

Your  unworthy 

FATHER 

Geraldine's  hungry  heart  drank  in  the 
tender  message.  Again  and  again  she  kissed 
the  letter  while  tears  of  grief  ran  down  her 
cheeks.  A  tiny  hope  sprang  in  her  breast. 
She  read  her  father's  words  over  and  over, 
striving  to  glean  from  them  a  contradiction 
of  the  accusation  that  he  had  planned  and 
carried  out  a  deliberate  crime. 

Rufus  Carder  had  promised  her  father  to 
treat  her  as  a  daughter.  How  that  assertion 
soothed  the  wound  to  her  filial  affection,  and 
warmed  her  heart  with  the  assurance  that  her 
father  had  not  sold  her  into  the  worst  slavery! 

She  soon  crept  into  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 
Her  father's  exhortation  seemed  to  give  her 
permission  to  speculate  on  those  words  of 
the  stranger  knight: 

"Courage.  Walk  in  meadow.  Wear 
white." 

136 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  MEADOW 

THE  knight  was  doubly  dusty  when,  return 
ing  from  his  quest  in  the  late  twilight,  he 
halted  his  noisy  steed  before  Upton's  Fancy 
Goods  and  Notions.  He  was  confronted 
by  a  sign:  "Closed.  Taking  account  of 
stock." 

The  young  man  tried  the  door  which  re 
sisted  vigorous  turns  of  its  handle.  Nothing 
daunted,  he  knocked  peremptorily,  then 
waited  a  space.  Getting  no  response,  he 
renewed  his  assaults  with  such  force  that  at 
last  the  lock  turned,  the  door  opened,  and 
an  irate  face  with  a  one-sided  slit  of  a  mouth 
was  projected  at  him  threateningly. 

"Can't  you  read,  hey?"  was  the  exasper 
ated  question,  followed  by  an  energetic 
effort  to  close  the  door  which  was  foiled  by 
the  interposition  of  a  masculine  foot. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Whipp,  I  learned  last  year. 
Pm  awfully  sorry,  but  I  have  to  come  in." 
As  he  spoke  the  visitor  opened  the  door  in 

137 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

spite  of  the  indignant  resistance  of  Char 
lotte's  whole  body,  and  walked  into  the 
empty  shop  where  kerosene  lamps  were  al 
ready  burning.  "I  have  to  see  Miss  Upton. 
Awfully  sorry  to  disturb  you  like  this,"  he 
added,  smiling  down  at  the  angry,  weazened 
face  which  gradually  grew  bewildered. 
"Why,  it's  Mr.  Barry,"  she  soliloquized 
aloud.  "Just  the  same,"  she  added,  the 
sense  of  outrage  holding  over,  "we'd  ruther 
you'd  'a'  come  to-morrer." 

Ben  strode  through  the  shop  and  out  to 
the  living-room,  Mrs.  Whipp  following  im- 
potently,  talking  in  a  high,  angry  voice. 

"T  ain't  my  fault,  Miss  Upton.  He 
would  come  in.  Some  folk '11  do  jest  what 
they  please,  whatever  breaks." 

"Law,  Ben  Barry!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Mehitable  with  a  start.  "You've  surely 
caught  me  in  my  regimentals!" 

Miss  Upton's  regimentals  consisted  of 
ample  and  billowy  apron  effects  over  a  short 
petticoat.  Her  hair  was  brushed  straight 
off  her  round  face  and  twisted  in  a  knot  as 
tight  as  Charlotte's  own;  and  she  wore  large 
list  slippers. 

"Don't  you  care,  Mehit.  I  look  like  a 
138 


THE  MEADOW 


blackamoor  myself.  I  had  to  see  you" 
—  the  young  fellow  grasped  his  friend's 
hands,  his  eyes  sparkling.  "I'd  kiss  you 
if  I  was  wearing  a  pint  less  dust.  She's 
an  angel,  a  star,  a  wonder!"  he  finished 
vehemently. 

Miss  Upton  forgot  her  own  appearance, 
her  lips  worked,  and  her  eyes  were  eager. 
"Ain't  she,  ain't  she?"  she  responded  in 
excitement  equal  to  his  own.  "Is  she 
comin'?  When?" 

"Heaven  knows.  She's  a  prisoner,  with 
that  brute  for  a  jailer." 

Miss  Upton,  who  had  been  standing  by 
the  late  supper-table  in  the  act  of  assisting 
Charlotte  to  carry  off  the  wreck,  fell  into  a 
chair,  her  mouth  open. 

"And  you  left  her  there!"  she  cried  at 
last.  "You  did  n't  knock  him  down  and 
carry  her  off!" 

"Great  Scott,  how  I  wanted  to!"  replied 
Ben  between  his  teeth,  his  fists  clenched; 
"but  she  would  n't  let  me.  There's  some 
thing  there  we've  got  to  find  out.  She 
shook  her  head  and  signaled  me  to  do  noth 
ing.  He  told  her  to  bid  me  go  away  and 
she  obeyed  him.  Oh,  Miss  Upton,  how  she 

139 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

looked!  The  most  beautiful  thing  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life,  but  the  most  haunted, 
mournful,  despairing  face  — " 

"Ben,  you're  makin'  me  sick!"  responded 
Miss  Mehitable,  her  voice  breaking.  "Did 
you  give  the  poor  lamb  my  letter?" 

"He  would  n't  let  me  get  near  enough  to 
do  that;  but  I  gave  it  to  a  stupid-looking 
dwarf  who  was  mowing  the  grass  near  by. 
I'm  not  even  sure  he  understood  me.  Per 
haps  he  was  deaf  and  dumb.  I  don't  know; 
but  it  was  the  best  I  could  do.  She  showed 
me  so  plainly  that  I  was  only  making  it 
harder  for  her  by  insisting  on  anything, 
there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  come 
away,  boiling."  Ben  began  striding  up  and 
down  the  living-room,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  his  restlessness  causing  Pearl  to 
leap  up,  barely  escaping  his  heavy  shoe. 
Her  arched  back  and  her  mistress's  face 
both  betokened  an  outraged  bewilderment. 

Mrs.  Whipp's  eyes  and  ears  were  stretched 
to  the  utmost.  This  autocratic  young  up 
start  had  broken  into  the  house  and  nearly 
stepped  on  her  pet.  All  the  same,  if  he 
had  n't  done  so,  Miss  Upton  would  still  be 
keeping  secrets  from  her.  She  had  felt  sure 

140 


THE  MEADOW 


ever  since  Miss  Mehitable's  last  trip  to  the 
city  that  there  was  something  unusual  in 
the  air  and  that  she  was  being  defrauded  of 
her  rights  in  being  shut  out  from  participa 
tion  therein.  Had  this  young  masculine 
hurricane  not  stormed  in  to-night,  no  telling 
how  long  she  would  have  been  kept  in  the 
dark;  so  she  stopped,  looked,  and  listened, 
with  all  her  might. 

"Well,  what  are  you  goin'  to  do,  Ben?" 
asked  Miss  Upton,  beseechingly.  "You're 
not  goin'  to  leave  it  so,  are  you?" 

"I  should  say  not.  Carder  is  going  to 
have  me  on  his  trail  till  that  exquisite 
creature  is  out  of  his  clutches.  Never  was 
there  a  sleuth  with  his  heart  in  his  business 
as  mine  will  be.  Oh!"  —  Ben,  pausing  not 
in  the  march  which  sent  Pearl  to  the  top  of 
a  bookcase,  raised  his  gaze  heavenward  — 
"what  eyes,  Miss  Upton!  Those  beautiful 
despairing  eyes  in  that  dreary,  sordid  den, 
cut  off  from  the  world!" 

"Ben,  you  stop!"  whimpered  Miss  Mehit- 
able,  using  her  handkerchief.  "You're 
breakin'  my  heart.  And  to  think  how  you 
scoffed  at  me  on  Sunday!" 

"Wasting  time  like  a  fool!"  ejaculated 
141 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Ben.  He  suddenly  stopped  before  the  weep 
ing  Mehitable,  nearly  tripping  over  her 
roomy  slippers.  "Now,  Miss  Upton,  this 
is  what  you  are  to  do.  I'm  going  to  town 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  take  steps 
to  get  on  the  trail  of  that  sly  fox.  You  go 
right  up  to  see  Mother  and  tell  her  all  about 
Miss  Melody."  Again  his  gaze  sought  the 
ceiling.  "Melody!  What  a  perfect  name 
for  the  most  charming,  graceful,  exquisite 
human  flower  that  ever  bloomed!"  Turn 
ing  suddenly,  the  rapt  speaker  encountered 
Mrs.  Whipp's  twisted,  acid,  hungrily  listen 
ing  countenance.  He  emitted  a  burst  of 
laughter  and  looked  back  at  Miss  Mehitable, 
who  was  wiping  her  eyes.  "Tell  Mother 
the  whole  story,"  he  went  on,  "just  as  you 
did  to  me;  and  here's  hoping  my  skepticism 
isn't  inherited.  And  now,  Mrs.  Whipp" 

—  addressing  the  faded  listener  who  gave 
a  surprised  sniff  —  "I '11  go  home  and  wash 
my  face.     I  know  you'll  approve  of  that. 
Good-night,    Miss    Upton;    don't   you    cry. 
I'm  going  to  put  up  a  good  fight  and  per 
haps  Geraldine  —  oh,  what  a  lovely  name! 

—  perhaps    she    has    the    comfort   of   your 
letter   by   this    time."     Ben    scowled    with 

142 


THE  MEADOW 


sudden  introspection.  "What  hold  has 
that  rascal  over  her?  That's  what  puzzles 
me.  What  hold  can  he  have  ?" 

Miss-  Mehitable  blew  her  nose  grievously. 
"Why,  he  's  cousin  to  her  rascal  stepmother, 
you  know.  No  tellin'  what  they  cooked 
up  between  'em." 

Of  course,  after  her  emissary  had  departed 
Miss  Upton  had  to  face  Mrs.  Whipp  and  her 
injured  sniffs  and  silent  implications  of  mal 
treatment;  but  she  sketched  the  story  to 
her,  eliciting  the  only  question  she  dreaded. 

"What  did  you  say  to  the  girl  in  your 
letter?  Did  you  write  her  to  come  here?" 
Mrs.  Whipp's  manner  was  stony. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  replied  Miss  Mehitable 
bravely. 

"Then  I  s'pose  I'd  better  be  makin' 
other  plans,"  said  Charlotte,  going  to  Pearl 
and  picking  her  up  as  if  preparing  for  in 
stant  departure. 

Miss  Upton's  eyes  shone  with  exaspera 
tion.  "I  wish  you  wouldn't  drive  me 
crazy,  Charlotte  Whipp.  If  you  have  n't 
any  sympathy  for  a  poor  orphan  in  jail  on 
a  desolate  farm,  then  I  would  n't  own  it,  if 
I  was  you.  You  can  see  what  chance  she 

H3 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

has  o'  comin'  here.  If  the  law  has  to  settle 
it,  she's  likely  to  be  toothless  before  she  can 
make  a  move." 

Mrs.  Whipp  was  startled  by  the  wrathful 
voice  and  manner  of  one  usually  so  pacific. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  mad,  Miss 
Upton,"  she  said  with  a  meek  change  of 
manner;  and  there  the  matter  dropped. 

Now  was  a  crucial  time  for  Geraldine 
Melody.  Her  father's  exhortation  to  her 
not  to  consider  him  and  the  doubt  which 
his  letter  had  raised  as  to  his  legal  guilt, 
coupled  with  the  memory  of  the  vigorous 
young  knight  in  knickerbockers,  gave  her 
the  feeling  that  she  might  at  least  obey  the 
latter's  mysterious  hint. 

Rufus  Carder  was  still  in  fear  that  he  had 
pushed  matters  too  fast,  and  the  next  morn 
ing,  when  his  captive  came  downstairs  to 
help  get  the  breakfast,  he  contented  himself 
with  devouring  her  with  his  eyes.  She  felt 
that  she  must  guard  her  every  look  lest  he 
observe  a  vestige  of  her  reviving  hope  and 
courage.  She  must  return  to  the  thought  of 
becoming  a  "trusty."  It  would  be  difficult 
to  steer  a  course  between  the  docility  that 
would  encourage  odious  advances  on  the 

144 


THE  MEADOW 


one  hand,  and  on  the  other  a  too  obvious 
repugnance  which  would  put  her  jailer  on 
his  guard.  Of  course  there  were  moments 
when  the  lines  of  her  father's  letter  seemed 
to  her  to  admit  criminality,  but  at  others 
the  natural  hopefulness  of  youth  asserted 
itself,  and  she  interpreted  his  words  to  in 
dicate  only  his  humiliation  and  disgraceful 
debts. 

There  was  an  innate  loftiness,  an  ethereal 
quality,  about  the  girl's  personality  which 
Carder  always  felt  in  spite  of  himself,  even 
at  the  very  moments  when  he  was  obtrud 
ing  his  familiarities  upon  her.  She  was  like 
a  fine  jewel  which  he  had  stolen,  but  which 
baffled  his  efforts  to  set  it  among  his  own 
possessions. 

Already  in  the  short  time  which  had 
elapsed  since  bringing  her  to  the  farm,  she 
had  fallen  away  to  an  alarming  delicacy  of 
appearance.  Her  mental  conflict  and  the 
blows  she  had  received  showed  so  plainly 
in  her  looks  that  Carder's  whole  mind  be 
came  absorbed  in  the  desire  to  build  her 
up.  She  might  slip  away  from  him  yet 
without  any  recourse  to  violence  on  her 
own  part. 

145 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

That  morning,  her  father's  letter  in  the 
same  envelope  with  Miss  Upton's  and  both 
treasures  against  her  heart,  she  came  down 
stairs  and  saw  Pete  washing  at  the  pump. 
Rufus  Carder  was  not  in  sight,  and  she 
moved  swiftly  toward  the  dwarf,  who  looked 
frightened  at  her  approach. 

"How  can  I  thank  you,  Pete!"  she  ex 
claimed  softly,  and  her  smile  transformed 
her  pale  face  into  something  heavenly  to 
look  upon.  Her  eyes  poured  gratitude  into 
his  dull  ones  and  his  face  crimsoned. 

"Keep  away,"  was  all  he  said. 

Carder  appeared,  as  it  seemed,  up  through 
the  ground,  and  the  dwarf  rubbed  his  face 
and  neck  with  a  rough,  grimy  towel. 

"Good-mornin',"  said  Rufus  in  his  harsh 
voice. 

Geraldine  turned  a  lightless  face  toward 
him.  "Good-morning,"  she  said.  "Is  this 
well  a  spring?" 

"Yes.  Have  you  noticed  how  good  the 
water  is?" 

"I  was  just  coming  for  a  drink  when  you 
startled  me.  I  did  n't  see  you." 

"Allow  me,"  said  Rufus,  picking  up  the 
half  cccoanut  shell  which  was  chained  to 

146 


THE  MEADOW 


the  wood.  "Let's  make  a  loving-cup  of  it. 
I'm  thirsty,  too." 

He  held  the  cup  while  Pete  pumped  the 
water  over  it,  and  finally  shaking  off  the 
clinging  drops  offered  it  to  the  guest. 

Geraldine  made  good  her  words.  An  in 
ward  fever  of  excitement  was  burning  in  her 
veins.  The  proximity  of  this  man  caused 
her  always  the  same  panic.  Oh,  what  was 
meant  by  those  written  words  of  the  sunny- 
eyed,  upstanding  young  knight  who  had 
obeyed  her  so  reluctantly?  Now  it  was  her 
turn  to  obey  him,  and  she  must  see  to  it 
that  no  suspicion  of  Carder's  should  pre 
vent  her. 

When  she  had  drunk  every  drop,  Rufus 
took  a  few  sips  —  he  had  not  much  use  for 
water  —  and  they  returned  to  the  house 
together. 

When  Mrs.  Carder  and  Pete  had  sent  the 
hired  men  afield,  the  three  sat  down  to 
breakfast  as  usual,  and  Rufus,  moved  by 
the  guest's  transparent  appearance  and 
downcast  eyes,  played  unconsciously  into 
her  hands. 

"This  is  great  weather,  Geraldine,"  he 
said.  "You  don't  want  to  mope  in  the 

H7 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

house.  You  want  to  spend  a  lot  o'  time 
outdoors.  I'll  take  you  out  driving  when 
ever  you  want  to  go." 

Geraldine  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  —  the  eyes 
with  the  drooping,  pensive  corners  deepened 
by  dark  lashes  which  Miss  Upton  had  tried 
to  describe. 

"I  think  I'm  not  feeling  very  strong,  Mr. 
Carder,'*"  she  said  listlessly.  "Long  drives 
tire  me." 

"Long  walks  will  tire  you  more,"  he  an 
swered,  instantly  suspicious. 

"Yes,  I  don't  feel  equal  to  them  now," 
she  answered,  her  grave  glance  dropping 
again  to  her  plate. 

He  regarded  her  with  a  troubled  frown. 

"That  hammock  chair  and  a  hammock  will 
be  out  to-day,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  put  'em  under 
the  elm  you're  so  stuck  on,  and  I  guess  we 
can  scare  up  some  books  for  you  to  read." 

Geraldine's  heart  began  to  quicken  and 
she  put  a  guard  upon  her  manner  lest  eager 
ness  should  crop  out  in  spite  of  her. 

"It  is  early  for  shade,"  she  replied.  "The 
sun  is  pleasant.  Everything  is  so  bare  about 
here,"  she  added  wearily.  "I  wish  I  could 
find  some  flowers." 

148 


THE  MEADOW 


Then  it  was  that  Mrs.  Carder,  poor  dumb 
automaton,  volunteered  a  remark;  and  the 
most  silver-tongued  orator  could  not  have 
better  pleased  Geraldine  with  eloquence. 

"Used  to  be  quite  a  lot  grow  down  in  the 
medder,"  she  said. 

Geraldine's  heart  beat  like  a  little  trip 
hammer,  but  she  did  not  look  up  from  her 
plate,  nor  change  her  listless  expression. 

"I'd  like  to  go  and  see  if  there  are  any," 
she  said.  "I  love  them.  Where  is  the 
meadow?" 

"Oh,  it's  just  that  swale  to  the  right  of 
the  driveway,"  said  Rufus.  "  It 's  low  ground, 
and  I  s'pose  the  wild  flowers  do  like  it.  I 
hope  the  cows  have  n't  taken  them  all.  You 
need  n't  be  afraid  o'  the  cows." 

"No,  I'm  not,"  replied  Geraldine.  "Per 
haps  I'll  go  some  time." 

"Go  to-day,  go  while  the  goin's  good," 
urged  Rufus.  "Never  can  tell  when  the 
rain  will  keep  you  in.  You  shall  have  a 
flower  garden,  Geraldine.  You  tell  me 
where  you  Jd  like  it  and  I  '11  have  the  ground 
got  ready  right  off." 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered,  "but  I  like 
the  wild  flowers  best." 

149 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

As  soon  as  the  dishes  were  dried,  Geraldine 
went  up  to  her  room  and  delved  into  her 
little  trunk.  She  brought  out  a  white  cot 
ton  dress.  It  had  not  been  worn  since  the 
summer  before,  and  though  clean  it  was 
badly  wrinkled.  She  took  it  down  to  the 
kitchen  and  ironed  it. 

"Coin5  to  put  on  a  white  dress?"  asked 
Mrs.  Carder.  "Kind  o'  cool  for  that,  ain't 
it?" 

"I  don't  think  so.  I  have  very  few 
dresses,  and  I  get  tired  of  wearing  the  same 


one." 


Mrs.  Carder  sighed.  "Rufus  will  buy 
you  all  the  dresses  you  want  if  you'll  only 
get  strong.  I  can  see  he  's  dreadful  worried 
because  you  look  pale." 

"Well,  I  am  going  to  try  to  become  sun 
burned  to-day.  I'm  so  glad  you  thought 
of  the  meadow,  Mrs.  Carder.  Perhaps  you 
like  flowers,  too." 

The  old  woman  sighed.  "  I  used  to.  I  've 
'most  forgot  what  they  look  like." 

"I'll  bring  you  some  if  there  are  any." 

Geraldine's  eyes  held  an  excited  light  as 
she  ironed  away.  After  the  eleven  o'clock 
dinner  she  went  up  to  her  room  to  dress. 


THE  MEADOW 


Color  came  into  her  cheeks  as  she  saw  her 
reflection  in  the  bit  of  mirror.  What  a 
strange  thing  she  was  doing.  Supposing 
Miss  Upton's  paragon  had  already  become 
absorbed  in  his  own  interests.  How  ab 
surd  she  should  feel  wandering  afield  in  the 
costume  he  had  ordered,  if  he  never  came 
and  she  never  heard  from  him  again. 

"Wear  white." 

What  could  it  mean?  What  possible  dif 
ference  could  the  color  of  her  gown  make  in 
any  plan  he  might  have  concocted  for  her 
assistance?  However,  in  the  dearth  of  all 
hope,  in  her  helplessness  and  poverty,  and 
aching  from  the  heart-wound  Rufus  Carder 
had  given  her,  why  should  she  not  obey? 

The  color  receded  from  her  face,  and  again 
delving  into  her  trunk  she  brought  forth  an 
old,  white,  embroidered  crepe  shawl  with 
deep  fringe  which  had  belonged  to  her 
mother.  This  she  wrapped  about  her  and 
started  downstairs.  She  feared  that  Carder 
would  accompany  her  in  her  ramble.  She 
could  hear  his  rough  voice  speaking  to  some 
workmen  in  front  of  the  house,  and  she 
moved  noiselessly  out  to  the  kitchen. 

Mrs.   Carder  looked  up  from  the  bread 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

she  was  moulding  and  started,  staring  over 
her  spectacles  at  the  girl. 

"You  look  like  a  bride,"  she  said. 

"I'll  bring  you  some  flowers,"  replied 
Geraldine,  hastening  out  of  the  kitchen- 
door  down  the  incline  toward  the  yellow 
office. 

"Hello,  there,"  called  the  voice  she 
loathed,  and  Carder  came  striding  after  her. 
She  stood  still  and  faced  him.  The  long 
lines  and  deep,  clinging  fringe  of  the  creamy 
white  shawl  draped  her  in  statuesque  folds. 
Carder  gasped  in  admiration. 

"You  look  perfectly  beautiful!"  he  ex 
claimed. 

The  young  girl  reminded  herself  that  she 
was  working  to  become  a  trusty. 

"What's  the  idea,"  he  went  on,  "of 
makin'  such  a  toilet  for  the  benefit  of  the 
cows?"  At  the  same  time,  the  wish  being 
father  to  the  thought,  the  glorious  sus 
picion  assailed  him  that  Geraldine  was  per 
haps  not  unwilling  to  show  him  her  beauty 
in  a  new  light.  It  stood  to  reason  that  she 
must  possess  a  normal  girlish  vanity. 

She  forced  a  faint  smile.  "It's  just  my 
mother's  old  shawl,"  she  replied. 

152 


THE  MEADOW 


"Want  me  to  help  you  find  your  flowers?" 
he  asked. 

"If  you  wish  to,"  she  answered,  "but  it 
is  n't  discourteous  to  like  to  be  alone  some 
times,  is  it,  Mr.  Carder?  You  were  saying 
at  dinner  that  I  looked  tired.  I  really  don't 
feel  very  well.  I  thought  I  would  like  to 
roam  about  alone  a  while  in  the  sunshine." 

Her  gentle  humility  brought  forth  a  loud: 
"Oh,  of  course,  of  course,  that's  all  right. 
Suit  yourself  and  you'll  suit  me.  Just  find 
some  roses  for  your  own  cheeks  while  you're 
about  it,  that's  all  I  ask." 

"I'll  try,"  she  answered,  and  walked  on. 
Carder  accompanied  her  as  far  as  his  office, 
where  he  paused. 

"Good-bye,  bless  your  little  sweet  heart," 
he  said,  low  and  ardently,  in  the  tone  that 
always  seemed  to  make  the  girl's  very  soul 
turn  over. 

"Good-bye,"  she  answered,  without  meet 
ing  the  hunger  of  his  oblique  gaze;  and  cross 
ing  the  driveway  she  forced  herself  to  move 
slowly  down  the  grassy  incline  that  led  to 
the  meadow  where  a  number  of  cows  were 
grazing. 

Carder  watched  longingly  her  graceful, 
153 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

white  figure  crowned  with  gold.  She  was 
safe  enough  in  the  meadow.  Even  if  she 
desired  to  go  out  of  bounds,  she  would 
not  invade  any  public  way,  hatless,  and 
in  clinging  white  crepe.  The  cows  were 
excellent  chaperones.  Nevertheless  —  he 
snapped  his  fingers  and  Pete  came  out  from 
behind  the  office. 

Carder  did  not  speak,  but  pointed  after 
the  white  figure,  and  Pete,  again  dragging 
the  mower,  ambled  across  the  driveway 
and  followed  on  down  the  slope. 

Geraldine  heard  the  clicking  and  glanced 
around,  sure  of  what  she  should  see.  She 
smiled  a  little  and  shook  her  head  as  she 
walked  on. 

"Poor  little  Pete.  Good  little  Pete,"  she 
murmured.  "I  owe  him  every  moment  of 
comfort  I've  known  in  this  place." 

When  she  considered  that  she  had  gone 
far  enough  to  be  free  from  observation,  she 
turned  to  let  him  catch  up  with  her;  but 
when  she  paused  he  did  likewise  and  waited 
immovable. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Pete.  I'm  so  glad 
of  the  chance.  I'm  so  thankful  to  you,"  she 
called  softly. 

154 


THE  MEADOW 


The  dwarf  drank  in  the  delicate  radiance 
of  her  face  with  adoring  eyes. 

"Go  on,"  he  replied.  "He  is  watching.  He 
is  always  watching.  You  look  like  an  angel, 
but  the  devil  is  at  the  window.  Go  on." 

She  turned  back  obediently  and  continued 
down  the  slope.  When  she  reached  the  soft, 
spongy  green  of  the  meadow,  the  cows  re 
garded  her  wonderingly.  Pete  began  mowing 
the  long  grass  on  the  edge,  working  so  slowly 
that  the  sound  did  not  mar  the  hush  of  the 
place;  and  sometimes  he  sank  down  at  ease 
and  pulled  apart  a  jointed  stem,  his  eyes 
feasting  on  his  charge. 

The  cows  had  scorned  certain  blooms 
which  grew  lavishly  and  which  Geraldine 
waited  to  gather  until  it  should  be  time  to 
return.  Near  a  large  clump  of  hazel-bushes 
she  found  a  low  rock,  and  she  stretched  out 
there  in  the  sunshine  and  quiet,  and  tried 
to  think. 

There  had  been  a  little  warm  spot  in  her 
heart  ever  since  that  hour  when  she  read 
Miss  Upton's  letter.  She  was  no  longer 
utterly  friendless.  If  some  miracle  should 
give  her  back  her  freedom,  this  good  woman 
would  help  her  to  find  independence.  She 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

longed  to  see  that  village  of  Keefe.  She 
wished  never  again  to  see  a  city.  Did  Ben 
jamin  Barry  live  in  Keefe?  Geraldine  sum 
moned  his  image  only  too  easily.  Despite 
Miss  Upton's  recommendation  she  did  not 
wish  to  know  him,  or  to  trust  him;  but  think 
about  him  she  must  since  she  was  dressed  to 
his  order  and  in  the  spot  of  his  selection.  How 
absurd  it  all  was !  What  dream  could  he  have 
been  indulging  when  he  wrote  those  words  ? 

The  girl  could  not  keep  her  eyes  from  the 
driveway  nor  banish  the  pulsing  hope  that 
she  should  see  a  motor-cycle  again  speeding 
up  the  road.  She  even  rose  from  her  re 
clining  posture  lest  she  should  not  be  suffi 
ciently  conspicuous  in  the  field;  but  the 
hours  passed  and  nothing  occurred  beyond 
the  cows'  occasional  cessation  from  browsing 
to  regard  her  when  she  moved,  and  the  oc 
casional  arising  of  Pete  from  the  ground  to 
push  his  mower  idly  along  the  turf. 

The  flat  landscape,  the  broad  sky,  every 
thing  was  laid  bare  to  the  windows  of  the 
yellow  office.  She  felt  certain  that  should 
the  dusty  knight  reappear,  he  would  be 
recognized  from  afar,  and  that  Rufus  Carder 
would  circumvent  any  plan  he  might  have. 

156 


THE  MEADOW 


He  would  stop  at  nothing,  that  she  knew. 
She  wondered  if  the  law  would  excuse  a  man 
for  murdering  an  intruder  who  had  once  been 
warned  off  his  premises.  She  did  not  doubt 
that  Carder  would  be  as  ready  with  the  shot 
gun  she  had  noticed  in  his  office  as  he  was 
with  the  cruel  whip.  She  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  as  she  recalled  the  sunny- 
eyed  knight  and  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  another  meeting  between  the  two.  It  had 
been  plain  that  the  visitor's  youth,  strength, 
and  good  looks  had  thrown  Carder  into  a 
panic.  He  would  stop  at  nothing.  Nothing. 

A  lanky  youth  with  trousers  tucked  in 
his  boots  at  last  appeared,  slouching  down 
toward  the  meadow  to  get  the  cows. 

Geraldine  came  out  of  her  apprehensive 
mental  pictures  with  a  sigh,  and  rose.  She 
gathered  her  flowers,  and  moved  slowly  back 
toward  the  house. 

She  must  appear  to  have  enjoyed  her  out 
ing,  else  it  would  not  seem  consistent  for  her 
to  wish  to  come  again  to-morrow;  and  she 
must,  she  must  come  again!  Her  poor  con 
tradictory  little  heart  found  itself  clinging 
to  the  one  vague,  absurd  hope,  despite  its 
fears. 

157 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  BIRD  OF  PREY 

NOT  until  another  sunny  day  had  passed 
uneventfully  did  Geraldine  realize  how  much 
hope  she  was  hanging  upon  the  knight  of  the 
motor-cycle.  Despite  his  youth,  his  manner 
and  voice  had  been  those  of  one  accustomed 
to  exercising  authority.  He  certainly  had 
had  something  definite  in  mind  when  he 
wrote  that  message  to  her.  She  knew  so 
well  Pete's  stupid  demeanor,  that,  as  she 
roamed  in  the  meadow  that  second  day,  she 
meditated  on  the  probability  that  the  visitor 
had  despaired  of  her  receiving  the  message, 
and  had  concluded  to  abandon  his  idea, 
whatever  it  might  have  been. 

It  was  at  least  a  relief  from  odious  pressure 
to  be  out  in  the  field  alone.  The  soft-eyed 
cows,  an  occasional  bird  flying  overhead, 
and  the  intermittent  clicking  of  Pete's  lawn- 
mower  as  he  kept  his  respectful  distance 
were  all  peaceful.  There  was  not  a  tree  for  a 
bird  to  light  upon.  Even  birds  fled  from  the 

158 


THE   BIRD  OF   PREY 


Carder  farm.  The  great  elm  could  have 
sheltered  many,  but  the  feathered  creatures 
seemed  not  to  trust  it.  Perhaps  a  reason 
lay  in  the  fact  that  numbers  of  cats  lived 
under  the  barn  and  outhouses.  Nearly  al 
ways  one  might  be  seen  crouching  and  crawl 
ing  along  the  ground  looking  cautiously  to 
the  right  and  left.  None  was  ever  kept  for  a 
pet  or  allowed  in  the  house  or  fed.  They 
lived  on  rats,  mice,  birds,  and  the  field  mice, 
and  were  practically  wild  animals.  In  their 
frightened,  suspicious  actions  at  sight  of  a 
human  being,  Geraldine  recognized  a  re 
flection  of  her  own  mental  attitude;  and  she 
pitied  the  poor  things  even  while  they  ex 
cited  her  repugnance. 

Spring  and  no  birds,  she  thought  sadly, 
gathering  her  few  wild  flowers  when  the 
cows  had  gone  home  that  second  afternoon. 
She  strained  her  eyes  down  the  driveway. 
Blankness.  Blankness  everywhere.  At  the 
house,  misery. 

The  old  fairy  tales  came  to  her  mind. 
Tales  where  the  captive  princess  pines  and 
hopes  alternately. 

"'On  the  second  day  all  happened  as  be 
fore,'"  she  murmured  in  quotation.  It  was 

159 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

always  on  the  third  day  that  something 
really  came  to  pass,  she  remembered,  and 
she  scanned  the  sky  for  threatening  clouds. 
Ah,  if  it  should  rain  to-morrow  and  the 
leaden  hours  should  drag  by  in  that  odious 
house!  After  having  indulged  a  ray  of  hope, 
such  a  prospect  seemed  unbearable. 

In  her  role  of  trusty  she  had  constrained 
herself  to  civility.  She  had  taken  Mrs. 
Carder  the  flowers  last  night,  and  Rufus 
had  put  some  tiny  blooms  in  his  buttonhole 
and  caressed  them  at  supper-time  with 
significant  glances  at  her. 

When  she  awoke  on  the  following  day  her 
first  move  was  to  the  window  with  an  anxious 
look  at  the  sky.  As  soon  as  she  was  satisfied 
that  it  was  not  threatening,  a  reaction  set 
in  to  her  thought.  She  always  hastened  to 
dress  in  the  morning,  for  her  compassion  for 
Mrs.  Carder  made  her  hurry  to  her  assistance. 
Pete's  eyes  in  this  few  days  had  taken  on 
a  seeing  look  and  he  worked  with  energy  to 
follow  every  direction  of  his  golden-haired 
goddess.  In  the  kitchen  he  did  not  avoid  her 
eyes,  and  the  smiles  he  received  from  her 
were  the  only  sunbeams  that  had  ever  come 
into  his  life. 

160 


THE  BIRD  OF  PREY 


She  was  in  many  minds  that  morning  about 
going  again  to  the  meadow.  It  seemed  so 
absurd,  so  humiliating  to  costume  herself 
as  for  private  theatricals,  and  to  go  re 
peatedly  to  keep  a  tryst  which  the  other 
party,  and  that  a  man,  had  forgotten. 

Would  the  princess  in  the  fairy  tale  do  so? 
she  wondered;  but  then  if  she  had  not  per 
sisted  the  story  could  never  have  been 
written. 

"Ain't  you  sick  o*  that  meadow  and  the 
cows?"  asked  Rufus  at  the  dinner-table. 
"Had  n't  you  better  go  drivin'  to-day?  I've 
got  an  errand  to  the  village  and  just  as  lieve 
do  it  myself  as  send  one  o'  the  men  if 
you '11  go." 

Geraldine,  the  two  braids  of  her  hair 
brought  up  around  her  head  in  a  golden 
wreath  that  rested  on  fluffy  waves,  was  look 
ing  more  than  usually  appealing,  he  thought, 
and  he  congratulated  himself  on  the  re 
straint  with  which  he  was  allowing  her  mind 
to  work  on  the  proposition  he  had  made  to 
her.  She  was  evidently  becoming  more 
normal,  finding  herself  as  it  were.  Those 
flashes  of  red  and  white  that  had  passed 
across  her  face  in  her  intensity  of  feeling 

161 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

had  ceased.  Her  voice  was  steady  and 
civil. 

"The  meadow  seems  to  agree  with  me," 
she  answered.  "Why  should  my  not  going 
with  you  prevent  you  from  doing  your  errand 
at  the  village?" 

Why,  indeed?  thought  Carder,  regarding 
her.  She  had  no  money,  she  was  in  a  part 
of  the  world  strange  to  her.  If  she  again 
strolled  forth  arrayed  in  the  white  costume  in 
which  her  girlish  vanity  seemed  to  revel,  how 
could  she  do  anything  unsafe  during  the 
short  time  of  his  absence,  especially  with 
Pete  to  guard  her?  The  dwarf  had  had  it 
made  perfectly  clear  to  him  that  his  life 
depended  on  Geraldine's  presence. 

However,  it  was  Carder's  policy  never  to 
take  a  very  small  chance  of  a  very  big 
misfortune.  'Safe  bind,  safe  find,"  was  a 
favorite  saying  of  his. 

"As  soon  as  you  feel  thoroughly  rested, 
we  must  take  a  trip  to  town,"  he  said,  and 
he  advanced  a  bony,  ill-kept  hand  toward 
hers  as  if  he  would  seize  it.  "I  think  Ma 
works  too  hard,"  he  added  diplomatically 
as  Geraldine  slid  her  hand  off  the  table. 
"We  must  go  and  see  if  we  can  get  the  right 

162 


THE   BIRD  OF  PREY 


kind  of  help.  You'll  know  how  to  pick  it 
out.  Then  what  do  you  say  to  havin'  an 
architect  come  out  and  look  over  the  old 
shack  here  and  see  what  he  thinks  he  can  do 
with  it,  regardless  of  expense?" 

Geraldine  felt  that  unnerving  nausea  again 
steal  around  her  heart. 

"  It  is  n't  too  late  for  us  to  take  a  little 
flyer  in  to-day,"  he  added  eagerly,  and  the 
suggestion  made  the  meadow  and  its  cows 
look  like  a  glimpse  of  paradise.  Supposing 
he  should  come  and  she  be  gone!  This  was 
the  great  third  day.  "I — really — I " — stam 
mered  Geraldine  —  "I  feel  a  little  shaky  yet." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  Rufus  laughed  leniently. 
"Be  it  ever  so  humble  and  all  that  you  know. 
Home  for  you,  eh,  Gerrie?" 

She  longed  to  rise  and  strike  his  ugly 
smile  at  the  sound  of  her  father's  pet  name, 
and  she  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  "A 
trusty,"  she  said  to  herself  commandingly. 
"A  trusty." 

She  did  not  hear  another  word  that  was 
said  during  dinner,  and  when  she  was  free 
she  flew  up  to  her  room  and  put  on  the  poor 
little  grass-stained  dress  and  the  rich  crepe 
of  her  mother's  heirloom. 

163 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"O  God,  send  him!"  she  prayed,  as  her 
fingers  worked  on  the  fastenings.  "O  God, 
let  him  come"  —  then  with  tardy,  desperate 
recollection,  she  added  —  "and  O  God,  save 
his  life!" 

It  seemed  difficult  for  Rufus  Carder  to 
separate  himself  from  her  that  day.  When 
she  emerged  from  the  house,  she  found  him 
watching  for  her  and  she  reminded  herself 
again  that  if  she  angered  him  he  might  pre 
vent  her  from  doing  as  she  pleased.  It 
seemed  to  her  now  so  intensely  vital  that 
she  should  get  to  the  meadow  that  she  felt 
panic  lest  something  happen  to  prevent  it. 

"You  don't  want  to  go  down  there  again 
to-day,"  said  Rufus  coaxingly.  "Let's  take 
a  walk  up  to  the  pond." 

"Is  there  a  pond?"  asked  Geraldine 
quickly.  She  had  often  wondered  if  there 
were  any  body  of  water  about  the  place 
deep  enough  for  a  girl  to  be  covered  in  it  if 
she  lay  face  down. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have  a  cranberry  bog  with  a 
dam.  Makes  a  pretty  decent  pond  part  o' 
the  year.  How  would  you  like  it  if  I  got 
you  a  canoe,  Gerrie?  Say!  would  you  like 
that?"  The  interest  that  had  come  into 

164 


THE  BIRD  OF  PREY 


the  girl's  face  at  mention  of  the  pond  en 
couraged  him.  "Come  on,  let's  go.  You've 
had  enough  o'  the  cows." 

He  grasped  her  arm  and  she  set  her  teeth 
not  to  pull  away. 

"Would  you  mind  waiting?"  She  put 
the  question  gently  and  even  gave  him  a 
little  smile,  the  first  he  had  ever  seen  on  her 
face.  The  exquisiteness  of  it,  her  pearly 
teeth,  the  Cupid's  bow  of  her  lips  flushed 
him  from  head  to  foot.  "  I  seem  to  be  getting 
attached  to  that  meadow,"  she  added. 
"You'd  better  have  one  more  buttonhole 
bouquet,  don't  you  think?" 

The  delight  of  it  rushed  to  Carder's  head. 
He,  too,  had  to  put  a  strong  restraint  upon 
himself  to  let  well  enough  alone.  All  was  going 
so  nicely.  He  must  not  make  a  false  move. 

"Well,"  he  responded  with  a  sort  of  gas 
ping  sigh,  the  blood  in  his  face,  "as  I've 
always  said,  suit  yourself  and  you  '11  suit  me. 
Wind  me  right  around  your  finger  as  you 
always  have  done  and  always  will  do." 

He  walked  completely  down  the  incline 
with  her  to-day. 

She  wondered  if  he  had  any  sense  of  humor 
when  she  heard  the  clicking  of  Pete's  lawn- 

165 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

mower  behind  them  and  knew  that  he  was 
following.  Carder  did  not  seem  to  notice  it; 
but  he  said:  'I've  a  great  mind  to  stay 
down  here  with  you  to-day  and  find  out 
what  the  charm  is." 

"I  suppose  it  is  just  peace,"  she  answered, 
and  she  was  so  frightened  lest  he  carry  out 
this  threat  that  she  felt  herself  grow  pale 
to  the  lips.  "I've  passed  through  a  great 
deal  of  excitement,"  she  added  unsteadily. 
"The  silence  seems  healing  to  me." 

"Oh,  well,  little  one,"  he  replied  good- 
humo redly,  "if  it's  doing  you  good,  that's 
the  main  thing.  You  have  had  it  pretty 
hard,  I  know  that.  I'm  goin'  to  make  it 
up  to  you,  Gerrie,  I'm  goin'  to  make  it  up 
to  you.  Don't  you  be  afraid.  You're  safe 
to  be  the  most  envied  girl  in  this  county. 
You'll  make  some  splash,  let  me  tell  you, 
when  my  plans  are  carried  out."  He  pat 
ted  her  cringing  shoulder,  and  with  one  more 
longing  look  turned  and  left  her. 

Her  knees  were  still  trembling  and  she 
sank  down  on  her  rock  and  watched  Carder's 
round  shoulders  and  ill-fitting  clothes  as  he 
ascended  the  incline  to  the  office. 

Pete  was  using  a  sickle  on  the  stubbly 
166 


THE  BIRD  OF  PREY 


grass,  too  stiff  and  interspersed  with  stones 
for  the  mower. 

The  cows'  big  soft  eyes  were  regarding 
Geraldine,  as  they  always  did  for  a  time 
after  her  arrival. 

She  turned  her  tired,  listless  look  back  to 
them  and  wondered  what  they  did  here  for 
comfort  in  the  heat  of  summer.  There  was 
no  shade,  and  no  creek  to  walk  into. 

When  Rufus  Carder  arrived  at  his  office 
he  found  the  telephone  ringing.  The  mes 
sage  he  received  necessitated  sending  some 
word  to  a  man  out  in  the  field. 

He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  down 
at  the  white  spot  which  was  Geraldine.  He 
saw  her  rise  and  walk  about.  Perhaps  she 
was  picking  flowers.  The  distance  was  too 
great  for  him  to  be  certain. 

"I  shall  be  right  here,"  he  muttered. 
Then  he  went  to  the  corner  of  the  office  and 
picked  up  a  megaphone.  Going  outside 
the  door  he  called  to  Pete.  "Come  up 
here!"  he  shouted.  The  boy  dropped  his 
sickle  and  began  to  amble  up  the  hill  as  fast 
as  his  bow-legs  would  permit. 

Geraldine  heard  the  shout,  and  turning 
saw  the  dwarf  obeying  the  summons. 

167 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Nobody  but  you  to  guard  me  now,"  she 
said  to  the  prettiest  of  the  cows  with  whom 
she  had  made  friends. 

She  watched  Pete  reach  the  summit  of  the 
incline  and  vanish  into  the  yellow  office. 

Presently  he  came  out  again  and  started 
off  in  the  direction  of  the  fields. 

"I  think  there  is  some  one  beside  you  to 
guard  me  now,"  went  on  Geraldine  to  the 
cow,  who  gave  her  an  undivided  attention 
mindful  of  the  bunches  of  grass  which  the 
girl  had  often  gathered  for  her.  "I  think  the 
ogre  has  come  out  to  the  edge  of  his  cave  and 
is  scarcely  winking  as  he  watches  us  down 
here.  Oh,  Bossy,  I'm  the  most  miserable 
girl  in  the  whole  world."  Her  breath  caught 
in  her  throat,  and  winking  back  despairing 
tears  she  stooped  to  gather  the  expected 
thick  handful  of  grass  when  a  humming 
sound  came  faintly  across  the  stillness  of  the 
field.  She  paused  with  listless  curiosity  and 
listened.  The  buzzing  seemed  suddenly 
to  fill  all  the  air.  It  increased,  and  her  up 
turned  face  beheld  an  approaching  aero 
plane.  Before  she  had  time  to  connect  its 
presence  with  herself  it  began  diving  toward 
the  earth.  On  and  on  it  came,  It  skimmed 

168 


THE   BIRD   OF  PREY 


the  ground,  it  ran  along  the  meadow,  the 
cows  stampeded.  She  clasped  her  hands, 
and  with  dilated  eyes  saw  the  aviator  jump 
out,  pull  something  out  of  the  cockpit  and 
run  toward  her.  She  ran  toward  him.  It 
was  —  it  could  n't  be  —  it  was  —  he  pushed 
back  his  helmet  —  it  was  her  knight!  Her 
excited  eyes  met  his.  "I've  come  for  you," 
he  called  gayly,  and  her  face  glorified  with 
amazed  joy.  % 

"He'll  kill  you!"  she  gasped  in  sudden 
terror.  "Hurry!" 

Ben  was  already  taking  off  the  crepe 
shawl  and  putting  her  arms  into  the  sleeves 
of  a  leather  coat.  A  shout  came  from  the 
top  of  the  hill.  Rufus  Carder  appeared, 
yelling  and  running.  His  gun  was  in  his 
hand.  The  men  from  the  fields,  who  had 
heard  and  seen  the  aeroplane,  and  Pete,  who 
had  not  yet  had  time  to  reach  them,  all 
came  running  in  excitement  to  see  the  great 
bird  which  had  alighted  in  such  an  unlikely 
spot. 

"He'll  kill  you!"  gasped  Geraldine  again. 
A  shot  rang  out  on  the  air. 

Ben  laughed  as  he  pushed  a  helmet  down 
over  her  head. 

169 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"It  can't  be  done,"  he  cried,  as  excited 
as  she.  He  threw  the  shawl  into  the  cockpit, 
lifted  the  girl  in  after  it,  buckled  the  safety 
belt  across  her,  jumped  in  himself,  and  the 
great  bird  began  to  flit  along  the  ground  and 
quickly  to  rise. 

Another  wild  shot  rang  out,  and  frightful 
oaths.  Geraldine  heard  the  former,  though 
the  latter  were  inaudible,  and  she  became 
tense  from  her  head  to  the  little  feet  which 
pushed  against  the  foot-board  as  if  to  hasten 
their  flight.  She  clutched  the  side  of  the 
veering  plane.  With  every  rod  they  gained 
her  relief  grew.  Ben,  looking  into  her  face 
for  signs  of  fear,  received  a  smile  which  made 
even  his  enviable  life  better  worth  living 
than  ever  before.  No  exultant  conqueror 
ever  experienced  greater  thrills.  Up,  up,  up, 
they  flew  out  of  reach  of  bullets  and  all  the 
sordidness  of  earth;  and  when  the  meadow 
became  a  blur  Geraldine  felt  like  a  disem 
bodied  spirit,  so  great  was  her  exaltation. 
Not  a  vestige  of  fear  assailed  the  heart  which 
had  so  recently  wondered  if  the  cranberry 
pond  was  deep  enough  to  still  its  misery. 
She  rejoiced  to  be  near  the  low-lying,  fleecy 
clouds  which  a  little  while  ago  had  aroused 

170 


THE  BIRD  OF  PREY 


her  apprehensions  for  the  morrow.  Let 
come  what  would,  she  was  safe  from  Rufus 
Carder  and  she  was  free.  Her  sentiment  for 
her  leather-coated  deliverer  was  little  short 
of  adoration.  Gratitude  seemed  too  poor  a 
term.  He  had  taken  her  from  hell,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  as  they  went  up,  up,  up,  they 
must  be  nearing  heaven.  At  last  he  began 
flying  in  a  direct  line. 

Below  was  her  former  jailer,  foaming  at 
the  mouth,  and  Pete,  poor  Pete,  lying  on  the 
ground  rolling  in  an  agony  of  loss.  "She's 
gone,  she's  gone,"  he  moaned  and  sobbed, 
over  and  over;  and  even  Carder  saw  that  if 
there  had  been  any  plot  afoot  the  dwarf  had 
not  been  in  it.  So  long  as  the  plane  was  in 
sight,  all  the  farm-workers  stared  open- 
mouthed.  None  of  them  loved  the  master, 
but  none  dared  comment  on  his  fury  now  or 
ask  a  question.  His  gun  was  in  his  hand  and 
his  eyes  were  bloodshot.  His  open  mouth 
worked.  They  had  all  seen  the  beautiful  girl 
who  had  now  been  snatched  away  so  amaz 
ingly,  and  there  was  plenty  to  talk  about  and 
wonder  about  for  months  to  come  on  the 
Carder  farm.  Rufus  Carder,  when  the  swift 
scout  plane  had  become  a  speck,  tore  at  his 

171 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

collar.  The  veins  stood  out  in  his  neck  and 
his  forehead.  He  felt  the  curious  gaze  of 
his  helpers  and  in  impotent  fury  he  turned 
and  walked  up  to  the  house.  His  mother, 
still  in  the  kitchen,  saw  him  come  in  and 
started  back  with  a  cry.  His  collar  and  shirt 
flying  open,  his  face  crimson  and  distorted, 
his  scowl,  and  his  gun,  terrified  her  almost 
to  fainting.  She  sank  into  a  chair.  Her  lips 
moved,  but  she  could  not  make  a  sound. 

"What  did  the  girl  tell  you!"  cried  her 
son. 

She  clutched  her  breast,  her  lips  moved, 
but  no  sound  emerged. 

Rufus  saw  that  she  was  too  frightened  to 
speak. 

"Don't  be  scared,"  he  said  roughly.  "All 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  tell  me  the  truth." 
He  made  a  mighty  effort  to  control  his  rasp 
ing  voice.  "Did  you  know  Geraldine  was 
goin'  away?" 

Mrs.  Carder  shook  her  head  speechlessly. 

"Sit  up,  Ma.  Talk  if  you've  got  any 
sense.  What  did  the  girl  tell  you?  Why 
was  she  dressin'  up  every  day?" 

"I  —  I  thought"  —  stammered  Mrs.  Car 
der,  "I  thought  she  wanted  to  look  pretty. 

172 


THE  BIRD  OF  PREY 


I  —  I  thought  you  were  goin '  to  marry  her. 
She  never  told  me  anything.  Gone  away?" 
Some  curiosity  struggled  through  the  old 
woman's  paralyzing  fear.  "How  could  she 
go  away?  She  hadn't  any  hat  on."  She 
spoke  tremulously. 

"Come  up  to  her  room,"  said  Rufus 
sternly. 

He  flung  his  gun  into  a  corner  and  strode 
toward  the  stairs,  the  shaky  old  woman 
following  him 

Up  in  Geraldine's  chamber  he  stood  still 
for  a  moment  scowling  and  viewing  its  neat 
ness,  then  strode  to  the  closet  and  opened  the 
door.  Her  shabby  suit  was  hanging  there, 
and  the  pale-green  challie  gown  she  had  worn 
in  his  office.  He  grasped  its  soft  folds  in 
crushing  fingers.  The  gingham  dress  in  which 
she  worked  every  morning  was  also  hanging 
on  its  hook.  Her  hat  was  on  the  shelf.  That 
was  all.  Her  few  toilet  articles  were  neatly 
arranged  on  the  shabby  old  bureau.  He 
opened  its  drawers  and  tossed  their  meager 
contents  ruthlessly,  searching  for  some  letter 
or  scrap  of  paper  to  throw  light  on  her  exit. 
He  went  to  the  trunk  which  contained  some 
sheets  of  music  and  a  few  books.  These  he 

173 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

scattered  about  searching,  searching  between 
their  leaves. 

His  mother,  trembling  before  him,  spoke 
tremulously.  "Did  she  have  any  money 
to  go  away?" 

"No,"  he  growled. 

:<You  can  see  she  did  n't  expect  to  go, 
Rufus,"  said  the  old  woman  timidly.  "All 
her  things  are  here.  Why  —  why  don't  you 
take  the  car  and  —  and  go  after  her?" 

"Because  she  went  up  in  the  air,  that's 
why;  and  I'll  kill  him!"  He  shook  his  fists 
in  impotent  rage.  "He'll  find  he  didn't  get 
away  with  it  as  neat  as  he  thought." 

He  stormed  out  of  the  room,  and  lucky  it 
was  for  Pete  that  that  threshold  could  tell 
no  tales. 

The  old  woman  stared  after  him  in  a  new 
terror.  Her  son,  the  most  important  man  in 
the  county,  had  lost  his  mind,  and  all  for  the 
sake  of  that  girl  who  had  managed  in  some 
mysterious  way  to  give  him  the  slip.  "Gone 
tip  in  the  air!"  Poor  Rufus.  He  had  gone 
mad.  She  managed  that  night  to  get  an 
interview  in  the  woodshed  with  the  grief- 
stricken  Pete,  and  in  spite  of  his  incoherence 
and  renewed  sobs  she  learned  what  had  hap- 

174 


THE  BIRD  OF  PREY 


pened.  The  dwarf  believed  that  his  goddess 
had  been  kidnapped.  It  never  occurred  to 
his  dull  brain  to  connect  her  disappearance 
with  the  letters  he  had  conveyed  to  her. 

The  next  day  Carder  was  amazed  to  have 
the  boy  seek  him.  Never  before  had  Pete 
ventured  to  volunteer  a  word  to  him.  He 
was  sitting  in  his  den  gnawing  his  nails  and 
revolving  in  his  mind  some  scheme  for 
Geraldine's  recovery  when  the  dwarf  ap 
peared  at  the  door.  His  shock  of  hair  stood 
up  as  usual  and  his  eyes  were  swollen. 

"Can't  we  —  can't  we  —  look  for  her, 
master?"  he  asked  beseechingly.  "They 
may  hurt  her  —  the  man  that  stole  her. 
Can't  you  —  find  him,  master?" 

Carder's  scowl  bent  upon  the  humble 
suppliant. 

"I  ought  to  have  shot  him  the  first  time 
he  came,"  he  said  savagely. 

"Did  the  —  the  areoplane  ever  come  be 
fore?"  asked  Pete,  amazed,  his  heart's  desire 
to  see  again  and  save  his  goddess  supplying 
him  with  courage  to  speak.  His  dull  eyes 
opened  as  wide  as  their  puffiness  would 
permit. 

"No,"  snarled  Carder;  "but  it  was  that 
175 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

damned  fool  on  the  motor-cycle  without  a 
doubt.  I  don't  see  how  he  got  at  her.  No 
letter  ever  came." 

The  speaker  went  back  to  gnawing  his 
nails  in  bitter  meditation  and  forgot  the 
mourner  at  his  door  whose  slow  wits  began 
to  remember  —  remember;  and  who,  as  he 
remembered,  began  to  shake  in  his  poor 
broken  shoes  and  feel  nailed  to  the  ground. 
At  last  he  ambled  away,  thankful  that  his 
master  did  not  recur  to  the  questioning  of 
that  other  day.  His  dull  wits  received  a 
novel  sharpening. 

Carder's  few  words  had  transformed  the 
situation.  His  goddess  had  not  been  stolen. 
He  recalled  that  first  night  when  he  had 
forced  her  back  into  her  room  to  save  his  own 
life,  unmoved  by  her  pleading.  Her  sweet 
ness  had  given  him  courage  to  risk  conceal 
ing  the  tall  visitor's  letter  and  conveying  it 
to  her. 

If  Carder  should  suddenly  revert  to  that 
day  and  cross-question  him,  he  must  have 
his  denials  ready.  He  must  show  no  fear. 

He  fell  now  on  the  ground  and  rested 
his  head  on  his  long  arms  to  think.  It  was 
so  hard  for  him  to  think,  and  dry  sobs  kept 

176 


THE   BIRD  OF  PREY 


choking  him;  but  the  wonderful  fact  slowly 
possessed  him  that  he  had  served  her.  Pete, 
the  stupid  dwarf,  butt  of  rough  jokes  and 
ridicule,  had  saved  the  bright  being  he  ado  red. 
He  understood  now  her  fervent  efforts  to  con 
vey  thanks  to  him.  He  felt  dimly  that  the 
angel  whose  kindness  had  brightened  his  life 
for  those  few  days  had  gone  back  to  the  skies 
she  had  left.  The  man  of  the  motor-cycle 
had  looked  stern  as  he  slipped  the  letter  into 
his  ragged  blouse  and  said  the  few  low  words 
that  imposed  secrecy  and  the  importance  of 
the  message. 

"I'm  sure  you  love  her,"  the  man  had 
said.  "I'm  sure  you  want  to  help  her." 

The  words  had  contained  magic  that 
worked;  and  Pete  had  helped  her,  and  out 
witted  the  man  with  the  whip  who  owned 
him  body  and  soul. 

Henceforth  the  dwarf  had  a  wonderful 
secret,  a  secret  that  warmed  his  heart  with 
divine  fire. 

Remembering  how  his  goddess  had  wanted 
to  go  out  into  the  night  alone  to  escape,  he 
realized  that  she  must  have  been  as  unhappy 
as  himself.  When  he  prevented  her  from 
departing,  she  had  not  hated  him.  Com- 

177 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

passion  was  still  in  her  eyes  and  voice  when 
she  spoke  to  him  that  next  morning. 

Now  he  had  helped  her.  An  angel  had 
fallen  into  that  smoky  kitchen  and  toiled 
with  her  white  hands.  He  had  helped  her 
back  to  heaven.  Pete,  the  dwarf  had  done 
it:  Pete. 

He  rolled  over  on  his  back  and  looked  up 
at  the  sky.  Clouds  were  gathering,  but  she 
had  gone  into  the  blue.  She  was  there  now, 
and  it  was  through  him.  Perhaps  she  was 
looking  at  him  at  this  moment.  He  knew 
how  her  face  would  glow.  He  knew  how  her 
voice  would  sound  and  her  eyes  would  smile. 

"Thank  you,  Pete.  Thank  you,  good 
little  Pete." 

He  gazed  up  at  the  scudding  clouds  and 
his  troubled  soul  grew  quiet. 


178 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  PALACE 

BEN,  taking  an  occasional  look  around  at 
his  passenger,  flew  directly  on  toward  a  land 
ing-field.  Their  destination  had  hardly  yet 
interested  Geraldine.  The  whole  experience, 
in  spite  of  the  noise  of  the  motor,  seemed  as 
yet  unreal  to  her.  In  reaction  from  the 
frightful  nightmare  of  the  last  few  days, 
her  whole  being  responded  to  the  flight 
through  the  bright  spring  air,  and  had  Ben 
seen  fit  to  do  a  figure  eight  she  would  have 
accepted  it  as  part  of  the  reckless  joyous- 
ness  of  the  present  dream. 

As  the  plane  began  to  descend  and  objects 
below  came  into  view,  she  wondered  for  the 
first  time  where  the  great  bird  was  coming 
to  earth.  Perhaps  Miss  Upton's  ample  and 
blessed  figure  would  be  waiting  to  greet  her. 
Nothing,  nothing  was  too  good  to  be  true. 

The  plane  touched  earth  and  flitted  along 
to  a  standstill.  They  were  in  a  field,  just 
now  deserted,  and  her  escort,  pushing  back 
his  helmet,  smiled  upon  her  radiantly. 

179 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"First  time  you've  ever  flown?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  except  in  dreams,"  she  answered. 
"This  seems  only  one  more." 

"Were  they  happy  dreams?" 

"None  so  happy  as  this." 

"You  weren't  afraid,  then?  You're  a 
good  sport." 

"I  think  I  shall  never  be  afraid  again. 
Pve  sounded  the  depths  of  fear  in  the  last 
week." 

The  two  sat  looking  into  one  another's 
eyes  and  the  appeal  in  those  long-lashed  orbs 
of  Geraldine  continued  the  havoc  that  they 
had  begun.  Her  lips  were  very  grave  as  she 
recalled  the  precipice  from  which  she  had 
been  snatched. 

"I  saw  that  he  frightened  you  terribly 
that  day  he  gave  me  such  a  warm  welcome." 

"He  was  going  to  marry  me,"  explained 
Geraldine  simply. 

"How  could  he  —  the  old  ogre?" 

"I  was  to  consent  in  order  to  save  my 
father's  name.  I'm  going  to  tell  you  about 
it  because  you  're  a  lawyer,  are  n't  you,  and 
the  finest  man  in  the  world  ?  I  have  it  here." 

Geraldine  loosened  her  coat  and  felt  inside 
her  white  blouse  for  Miss  Upton's  letter. 

1 80 


THE  PALACE 


Ben  laughed  and  blushed  to  his  ears.  "I 
have  n't  attained  the  former  yet.  The  latter, 
of  course,  I  can't  deny." 

Geraldine  produced  the  letter,  inside  of 
which  was  folded  that  from  her  father. 

"Miss  Upton  wrote  me  about  you  and  — " 

"You're  not  going  to  show  it  to  me,"  in 
terrupted  Ben  hastily.  "  I  'm  afraid  the  dear 
woman  spread  it  on  too  thick  for  the  victim 


to  view." 

"You  see,  she  knew  how  I  hate  men,"  ex 
plained  Geraldine,  "and  she  knew  how 
friendless  I  was  and  she  wanted  me  to  trust 
you." 

"And  do  you?"  asked  Ben  with  ardor. 

"Yes,  perfectly.  I  have  to,  you  know." 
She  tucked  back  the  rejected  letter  in  its 
hiding-place. 

"And  you're  not  going  to  hate  me?" 

"I  should  think  not,"  returned  the  girl 
with  the  same  simple  gravity;  "not  when 
you  've  done  me  the  greatest  kindness  of  my 
whole  life!" 

"I'm  so  glad  I  haven't  named  the  plane 
yet,"  said  Ben  impulsively.  "You  shall 
name  it." 

"There's  no  name  good  enough,"  she  re- 
181 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

plied  —  "unless  —  unless  we  name  it  for 
that  carrier  pigeon  that  was  such  a  hero  in 
the  War.  We  might  name  it  Cher  Ami" 
"Good,"  declared  Ben.  "It  is  surely  a  hom 
ing  bird." 

"And  such  a  cher  ami  to  me,"  added 
Geraldine  fervently. 

Ben  wondered  if  this  marvelous  girl  never 
smiled. 

"You  were  going  to  tell  me  how  the  ogre 
was  able  to  force  you  to  marry  him,"  he 
said. 

"Yes;  I  don't  like  to  tell  you.  It  is  very 
sad,  and  he  crushed  me  with  it."  The  girl's 
lips  trembled  for  a  silent  moment,  and  Cupid 
alone  knows  how  Ben  longed  to  kiss  them, 
close  to  him  as  they  were. 

"He  said  that  my  father  forged  two  checks, 
and  that  he  only  refrained  from  prosecuting 
him  because  of  me.  He  said  my  father  had 
promised  that  he  should  have  me." 

Ben  scowled,  and  the  dark  eyes  fixed  upon 
him  brightened  with  sudden  eagerness.  "  But 
that  was  a  lie  —  about  father  giving  me  to 
him.  I  have  Daddy's  letter  here."  She  felt 
again  inside  her  blouse.  "You  will  have  to 
know  everything  —  how  my  poor  father 

182 


THE  PALACE 


was  his  own  worst  enemy  and  came  to  rely 
for  money  on  that  impossible  man." 

She  took  out  the  letter  and  gave  it  to  Ben 
and  he  read  it  in  silence. 

"Probably  it  was  a  lie  also  about  the 
checks,"  he  said  when  he  had  finished. 

"No,  oh,  no,"  she  replied  earnestly.  "He 
showed  me  those.  He  said  that  my  father 
was  held  in  affectionate  remembrance  at  his 
clubs  and  among  his  friends,  and  that  he 
could  ruin  all  that  and  hold  him  up  to  con 
tempt  as  a  criminal,  unless  —  unless  I  mar 
ried  him."  Geraldine's  bosom  heaved  con 
vulsively.  "I  have  been  wild  with  joy  ever 
since  you  came,"  she  declared.  "If  I  ever 
go  to  heaven  I  can't  be  happier  than  I  was 
flying  up  from  that  meadow  where  there 
seemed  a  curse  even  on  the  poor  little  wild 
flowers  but  you  can  see  how  it  is  going  to 
keep  coming  over  me  in  waves  that  per 
haps  I  have  done  wrong.  You  see,  Daddy 
tells  me  not  to  consider  him;  but  should  I  not 
guard  his  name  in  spite  of  that?  That  is 
the  question  that  will  keep  coming  up  to  me. 
Nevertheless"  —  she  made  a  gesture  of  de 
spair —  "if  I  went  through  with  it  —  if  I 
married  Mr.  Carder,  I'm  sure  I  should 

183 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

lose   all  control  and  kill  myself.     I'm  sure 
of  it." 

Here  Ben  gave  rein  to  the  dastardly ,  in 
stinct  which  occasionally  causes  a  poor  mor 
tal  to  fling  all  conscience  to  the  winds  when 
he  sees  an  unexpected  opportunity  to  attain 
a  longed-for  prize. 

"For  you  to  become  his  wife  cannot  be 
right,"  declared  Ben,  endeavoring  to  speak 
with  mature  and  legal  poise;  "but  as  you 
say,  that  heartrending  doubt  of  your  duty 
may  attack  you  at  times.  How  would  it 
be  to  put  it  beyond  your  power  to  yield  to 
his  wishes  by  marrying  some  one  else  —  me, 
for  instance?" 

Geraldine  regarded  the  speaker  with  grief 
and  reproach.  "Can  you  joke  about  my 
trouble?"  She  turned  away  and  he  sus 
pected  hurt  tears. 

"Miss  Melody  —  Geraldine."  What  Ben 
had  fondly  hoped  was  the  judicial  manner 
disappeared  in  a  whirlwind  of  words.  "I'm 
in  earnest!  I've  thought  of  nothing  but  you 
since  the  day  I  saw  you  with  that  cut-throat. 
It's  my  highest  desire  to  guard  you,  to  make 
you  happy.  Give  me  the  right,  and  every 
day  of  my  life  will  prove  it.  Of  course,  I 

184 


THE   PALACE 


saw  that  Carder  had  some  hold  over  you. 
I've  spent  all  my  time  ever  since  that  day 
trying  to  ferret  out  facts  that  could  give  me 
some  hold  on  him.  I  have  n't  found  them. 
The  fox  has  always  left  himself  a  loophole. 
Marry  me  to-day:  now:  before  we  go  home. 
I'm  well  known  in  the  town  yonder.  I  can 
arrange  it.  Marry  me,  and  whatever  comes 
you  will  be  safe  from  him.  Geraldine!" 

The  girl's  gaze  was  fixed  on  the  flushed 
face  and  glowing  eyes  beside  her  and  she 
leaned  as  far  away  from  him  as  possible. 

"You  really  mean  it?"  she  said  when  he 
paused. 

"As  I  never  meant  anything  before  in  my 
life." 

"Have  you  a  mother?" 

"The  best  on  earth." 

"And  yet  you  would  do  this  to  her,  just 
because  I  have  nice  eyes." 

It  was  a  frigid  bucket  of  water,  but  Ben 
stood  up  under  it. 

"Yes,  I  could  give  her  nothing  better." 

"You  don't  even  know  me,"  said  Geral 
dine.  "How  strange  men  are." 

"Yes,  those  you  hate;  but  how  about  me? 
You  said  you  liked  me." 

185 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

At  this  the  girl  did  smile,  and  the  effect 
was  so  wonderful  that  it  knocked  what  little 
sense  Ben  Barry  had  left  into  oblivion. 

"Love  at  first  sight  is  a  fact,"  he  declared. 
"No  one  believes  it  till  he's  hit,  but  then 
there 's  no  questioning.  You  looked  that 
day  as  if  you  would  have  liked  to  speak  to 
me  —  yes  "  —  boldly  —  "  as  if  to  escape 
Carder  you  would  have  mounted  that  motor 
cycle  with  me  and  we  should  have  done  that 
Tennyson  act,  you  know  —  'beyond  the 
earth's  remotest  rim  the  happy  princess 
followed  him '  —  or  something  like  that.  I 
don't  know  it  exactly  but  I  'm  going  to  learn 
it  from  start  to  finish  and  read  law  afterward. 
I've  dreamed  of  you  all  night  and  worked 
for  you  all  day  ever  since  and  yet  I  have  n't 
accomplished  anything!" 

"  Have  n't !  "exclaimed  Geraldine.  "  You  've 
done  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world." 

"Oh,  well,  Cher  Ami  did  that.  Tell  me 
you'll  let  me  take  care  of  you  always,  and 
knock  Carder's  few  remaining  teeth  down 
his  throat  if  he  ever  comes  in  sight.  Tell 
me  you  do  —  you  like  me  a  little." 

Geraldine's  entrancing  smile  was  still  light 
ing  her  pensive  eyes. 

1 86 


THE  PALACE 


"Oh,  no,  I  don't  like  you.  How  can  I? 
People  don't  like  utter  strangers.  One  feels 
worship,  adoration  for  a  creature  that  drops 
from  the  skies,  and  lifts  a  wretched  helpless 
girl  out  of  torturing  captivity  into  the  free 
sweet  air  of  heaven." 

"Well,  that'll  do,"  returned  Ben,  nod 
ding.  "Adoration  and  worship  will  do 
to  begin  with.  Let  us  go  over  to  the 
village  and  be  married  —  my  beautiful 
darling." 

Geraldine  colored  vividly  under  this  escape 
of  her  companion's  ungovernable  steam,  but 
she  did  not  change  her  expression. 

"I  certainly  shall  not  do  that,"  she  an 
swered  quietly. 

Ben  relaxed  his  tense,  appealing  posture. 

"Well,  then,"  he  said,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  "if  you  positively  decline  the  trap  — 
oh,  it  was  a  trap  all  right  —  if  you  are  de 
termined  to  postpone  the  wedding,  I'll  tell 
you  that  I  really  don't  believe  your  father 
forged  those  checks." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Barry — "  the  girl  leaned  toward 
him. 

"Ben,  or  I  won't  go  on." 

"Ben,  then.    It  is  no  sort  of  a  name  com- 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

pared  to  the  one  I  have  been  giving  you. 
I've  been  calling  you  Sir  Galahad." 

Ben  smiled  at  her  blissfully.  "Nice,"  he 
said.  "I  don't  believe  Miss  Upton  went 
beyond  that." 

"Oh,  please  go  on,  Mr.  Barry  —  Ben  — 
Sir  Galahad." 

"Why  could  n't  our  cheerful  friend  have 
shown  you  any  checks  he  drew  to  your 
father's  name  and  claim  that  they  were 
forged?" 

Geraldine's  eyes  shone.  "I  never  thought 
of  that." 

"Of  course  I  cannot  be  sure  of  it.  I  would 
far  rather  get  something  definite  on  the  old 
scamp." 

Geraldine  shuddered.  "He  is  so  cruel. 
He  is  so  rough  to  that  poor  little  fellow  Pete. 
Think  what  I  owe  that  boy!  He  managed  to 
get  your  message  to  me  even  when  threatened 
with  his  master's  whip.  Mr.  Carder  saw 
you  speaking  to  him  and  questioned  him." 

"Oh,  you  mean  that  nut  who  took  my 
letter?" 

"The  hero  who  took  your  letter.  He  had 
to  lie  outside  my  door  every  night  to  keep 
me  from  escaping,  and  he  slipped  your  mes- 

188 


THE  PALACE 


sage  under  it.  Where  should  I  be  now  but 
for  him?  Poor  child,  he  is  as  friendless  as  I 
am" —  Geraldine  interrupted  herself  with 
a  grateful  look  at  her  companion  —  "as  I 
was,  I  mean.  He  had  to  follow  me  and 
guard  me  wherever  I  went,  always  keeping  at 
a  distance,  because  he  mustn't  speak  to  me 
and  the  ogre  was  always  watching.  How 
I  thank  Heaven,"  added  Geraldine  fervently, 
"that  Mr.  Carder  himself  had  called  Pete 
off  duty  for  the  first  time  before  the  —  the 
archangel  swooped  down  from  the  sky." 

"I'm  getting  on,"  said  Ben.  "If  you 
keep  on  promoting  me,  I  '11  arrive  first  thing 
you  know." 

"I  should  honestly  be  wretched  if  I  had 
to  think  Mr.  Carder  was  blaming  Pete  for 
my  escape.  The  boy  did  tell  me  his  life 
depended  on  my  safety." 

"Well,  I  don't  understand,"  said  Ben  with 
a  puzzled  frown.  "Who  lies  in  front  of  Pete's 
door  ?  Why  does  he  stay  there  ?  Why  does  n't 
he  light  out  some  time  between  two  days?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Carder  has  told  him  no  one 
would  employ  him,  that  Pete  would  starve 
but  for  him.  Did  you  notice  how  ragged 
and  neglected  he  looked?" 

189 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"He  looked  like  a  nut.  I  was  afraid  he 
was  so  stupid  that  you  would  never  receive 
the  message."  Ben  looked  thoughtful.  "How 
long  has  he  lived  at  the  farm?" 

"For  years.  Mrs.  Carder  took  him  from 
the  orphan  asylum  when  he  was  a  child. 
She  thought  he  would  be  more  useful  than  a 
girl.  They  keep  him  as  a  slave.  You  saw 
how  very  bow-legged  he  is.  He  can't  get 
about  normally,  but  he  drives  the  car  and 
helps  in  the  kitchen  and  does  every  sort  of 
menial  task.  There  was  such  a  look  in  his 
eyes  always  when  he  saw  me.  Little  as  I 
could  do  for  him,  or  even  speak  to  him,  I  'm 
afraid  he  is  missing  me  terribly."  Geral- 
dine's  look  suddenly  grew  misty.  "  See  how 
faithful  he  was  about  Daddy's  letter.  Poor 
little  Pete.  Mr.  Carder  will  be  out  of  his 
mind  at  my  flight.  I  hope  he  does  n't  visit 
it  on  that  poor  boy." 

"Well,"  said  Ben,  heroically  refraining 
from  putting  his  arms  around  her,  "why 
don't  we  take  him?" 

"We?  Take  Pete?  How  wonderful!"  she 
returned,  her  handkerchief  pausing  in  mid-air. 

"Sure  thing,  if  you  want  him.  Send  him 
to  the  barber  and  have  his  hair  mowed. 

190 


THE  PALACE 


Have  some  trousers  cut  out  for  him  with  a 
circular  saw  and  fix  him  up  to  the  queen's 
taste." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Barry  —  Ben!  You  don't  know 
what  you  're  saying.  It  would  give  me  more 
relief  than  I  can  express,  for  the  boy's  lot 
is  so  miserable  and  starved." 

"Well,  then,  that  is  settled,  my  princess." 

"But  you  can't  get  him.  I  can't  help 
feeling  that  anyone  who  has  lived  there  so 
long,  and  been  so  unconsidered  and  un 
noticed,  must  know  more  than  Mr.  Carder 
wishes  to  have  go  to  the  outside  world. 
His  mother  hinted  some  things."  Geraldine 
gasped  with  reminiscent  horror  of  that  low- 
ceiled  kitchen. 

Her  companion  suddenly  looked  very  alert. 
"Highly  probable,"  he  returned.  "Why 
did  n't  you  say  that  before?  We  certainly 
will  take  Pete  in.  What  are  his  habits? 
You  say  he  drives  the  car." 

"Yes,  he  did  until  he  was  set  to  dog  my 
movements.  I  often  heard  it  referred  to. 
Do  you  mean  —  you  could  never  get  him 
in  this  blessed  chariot.  He  will  probably 
never  see  the  meadow  again  unless  they 
send  him  to  get  the  cows." 

191 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Ben  shook  his  head.  "No;  I  think  he  will 
have  to  be  bagged  some  other  way.  What's 
the  matter  with  my  going  back  to  the  farm 
on  my  motor-cycle  and  engaging  him,  over 
bidding  the  ogre?" 

Geraldine  actually  clasped  her  hands  on 
the  leathern  arm  beside  her.  "Promise  me," 
she  said  fervently,  looking  into  her  com 
panion's  eyes  —  "promise  me  that  you  will 
never  go  back  to  that  farm  alone." 

"You  want  to  go  with  me?" 

"Don't  joke.    Promise  me  solemnly." 

Ben's  lips  took  a  grave  line  and  he  put 
one  hand  over  the  beseeching  ones. 

"Then  what  will  you  promise  me?"  he 
returned. 

The  blood  mantled  high  over  the  girl's 
face.  "You're  taking  me  to  Miss  Upton, 
aren't  you?"  she  returned  irrelevantly. 

"Yes,  if  you  positively  refuse  still  to  go  to 
the  parson." 

The  expression  of  her  anxious  eyes  grew 
inscrutable. 

"I  want  your  mother  to  love  me,"  she 
said  naively. 

Ben  lifted  her  hands  and  held  them  to  his 
lips. 

192 


"You  haven't  promised,"  she  said  softly. 
"I  know  he  suspects  you  now.  I  think  he  is 
a  madman  when  he  is  angry." 

"Very  well,  I  promise."  Ben  released  her 
hands  and  smiled  down  with  adoring  eyes. 
"Now,  we  will  go  home,"  he  said. 

Again  the  great  bird  rose  and  winged  its 
way  between  heaven  and  earth. 

Now  it  was  not  as  before  when  Geraldine's 
whole  being  had  seemed  absorbed  in  flight 
and  freedom.  The  earth  was  before  her 
and  a  new  life.  She  had  a  lover.  Wonderful, 
sweet,  incredible  fact.  A  good  man,  Miss 
Upton  said.  Could  it  be  that  never  again 
desolation  and  fear  should  sicken  her  heart; 
that  like  the  princess  of  the  tales  her  great 
third  day  had  come  and  brought  her  love  as 
well  as  liberty?  Happiness  deluged  her, 
flushed  her  cheeks,  and  shone  in  her  eyes. 
She  longed  and  dreaded  to  alight  again 
upon  that  earth  which  had  never  shown  her 
kindness.  Could  it  be  possible  that  she 
should  reign  queen  in  a  good  man's  heart? 
For  so  many  years  she  had  been  habitually 
in  the  background,  kept  there  either  by  her 
stepmother's  will  or  her  own  desire  to  hide 
her  shabbiness,  and  when  need  had  at  last 

193 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

forced  her  to  initiative,  she  had  received 
such  humiliating  stabs  from  the  greed  of 
men  —  could  it  be  that  she  was  to  walk 
surrounded  by  protection,  and  love,  and 
respect  ? 

She  closed  her  eyes.  Spring,  sunlight,  joy 
coursed  through  every  vein.  When  at  last 
they  began  again  to  dip  toward  earth,  the 
question  surged  through  her:  "Shall  I  ever 
be  so  happy  again?" 

And  now  Miss  Upton's  figure  loomed 
large  and  gracious  in  the  foreground  of  her 
thoughts.  She  longed  for  the  refuge  of  her 
kindly  arms  until  she  could  gather  herself 
together  in  the  new  era  of  safety  and  peace. 

The  plane  touched  the  earth,  ran  a  little 
way  toward  an  arched  building,  and  stopped. 

Ben  jumped  out,  and  Geraldine  exclaimed 
over  the  beauty  of  a  rose-tinted  cloud  of 
blossoms. 

"Yes.  Pretty  orchard,  is  n't  it?"  he  said. 
He  unstrapped  her  safety  belt  and  lifted  her 
out  of  the  cockpit.  Her  eager  eyes  noted 
that  they  were  at  the  back  of  a  large  brick 
dwelling. 

"Is  Miss  Upton  here?"  she  asked  while 
her  escort  took  off  her  leather  coat  and  her 

194 


THE  PALACE 


helmet.  The  latter  had  been  pushed  on  and 
off  once  too  often.  The  wonder  of  her  golden 
hair  fell  over  the  poor  little  white  cotton 
gown  and  Ben  repressed  his  gasp  of  admira 
tion. 

"Oh,  this  is  dreadful,"  she  said,  putting 
her  hands  up  helplessly. 

"Don't  touch  it,"  exclaimed  her  compan 
ion  quickly.  "You  can't  do  anything  with 
it  anyway.  There  is  n't  a  hairpin  in  the 
hangar.  Miss  Upton  will  love  to  see  it.  She 
will  take  care  of  it." 

"Oh,  I  can't.  How  can  I!"  exclaimed 
Geraldine. 

"Certainly,  that's  all  right,"  said  Ben 
hastily.  "Miss  Upton  is  right  here.  She 
will  take  you  into  the  house  and  make  you 
comfy.  Let  me  put  this  around  you." 

He  took  the  crepe  shawl  and  put  it  about 
her  shoulders,  lifting  out  the  shining  gold 
that  fell  over  the  fringes. 

"I  know  it  is  very  old-fashioned  and 
queer,"  said  Geraldine,  pulling  the  wrap 
over  the  grass  stains  and  looking  up  into 
his  eyes  with  a  childlike  appeal  that  made 
him  set  his  teeth.  "It  was  my  mother's  and 
you  said  'white.'  It  was  all  I  had." 

195 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Miss  Upton  had  come  to  Mrs.  Barry's  to 
receive  her  protegee  provided  Ben  could 
bring  her.  The  two  ladies  were  sitting  out 
under  the  trees  waiting.  Miss  Mehitable 
had  obeyed  Ben,  and  some  days  since  had 
given  Mrs.  Barry  the  young  girl's  story,  and 
that  lady  had  received  it  courteously  and 
with  the  tempered  sympathy  which  one 
bestows  on  the  absolutely  unknown. 

Miss  Upton's  excitement  when  she  heard 
the  humming  of  the  aeroplane  and  saw  it 
approaching  in  the  distance  baffles  descrip 
tion.  She  had  been  forcing  herself  to  talk 
on  other  subjects,  perceiving  clearly  that 
her  hostess  was  what  our  English  friends 
would  term  fed  up  on  the  subject  of  the  girl 
with  the  fanciful  name;  but  now  she  clasped 
her  plump  hands  and  caught  her  breath. 

"Well,  she  ain't  killed,  anyway,"  she  said. 
She  longed  to  rush  back  to  the  landing-place, 
but  instinctively  felt  that  such  action  on  the 
part  of  a  guest  would  be  indecorous.  She 
hoped  Mrs.  Barry  would  suggest  it,  but 
such  a  move  was  evidently  far  from  that 
lady's  thought.  She  sat  in  her  white  silken 
gown,  with  sewing  in  her  lap,  the  picture  of 
unruffled  calm. 

196 


THE  PALACE 


Miss  Upton  swallowed  and  kept  her  eyes 
on  the  approaching  plane.  "She  ain't  killed, 
anyway,"  she  repeated. 

"Nor  Ben  either,"  remarked  Mrs.  Barry, 
drawing  the  fine  needle  in  and  out  of  her 
work.  "He  is  of  some  importance,  isn't 
he?" 

"Oh,  do  you  suppose  he  got  her,  Mrs. 
Barry?"  gasped  Miss  Mehitable. 

"Ben  would  be  likely  to,"  returned  that 
lady,  who  had  been  somewhat  tried  by  her 
son's  preoccupation  in  the  last  few  days  and 
considered  the  adventure  a  rather  annoying 
interlude  in  their  ordered  life. 

"Why  don't  she  say  let's  go  and  see!  How 
can  she  just  set  there  as  cool  as  a  cucumber!" 
thought  Miss  Mehitable,  squeezing  the  blood 
out  of  her  hands. 

The  plane  descended,  the  humming  ceased. 
Miss  Upton  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  chair 
looking  excitedly  at  the  figure  in  white  who 
embroidered  serenely.  Moments  passed  with 
the  tableau  undisturbed;  then: 

"Oh!  Oh!"  exclaimed  Miss  Mehitable, 
still  holding  a  rein  over  herself,  mindful  that 
she  was  not  the  hostess. 

Mrs.  Barry  looked  up.  She  was  a  New 
197 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Englander  of  the  New  Englanders,  conserv 
ative  to  her  finger  tips.  Ben  was  her  only 
son,  the  light  of  her  eyes.  If  what  she  saw 
was  startling,  it  can  hardly  be  wondered  at. 

There  came  through  the  pink  cloud  of  the 
apple  blossoms  her  aviator  son  looking  hand 
somer  than  she  had  ever  beheld  him,  leading 
a  girl  in  white-fringed  crepe  that  clung  in 
soft  folds  to  her  slenderness.  All  about  her 
shoulders  fell  a  veil  of  golden  hair,  and  her 
appealing  eyes  glowed  in  a  face  at  once 
radiant  and  timid. 

Mrs.  Barry  started  up  from  her  chair. 

"Mother!"  cried  Ben  as  they  approached, 
"I  told  you  I  should  bring  her  from  the 


stars." 


The  hostess  advanced  a  step  mechanically, 
Miss  Mehitable  followed  close.  Geraldine 
gazed  fascinated  at  the  tall,  regal  woman, 
whose  habitually  formal  manner  took  on  an 
additional  stiffness. 

"This  is  Miss  Melody,  I  believe."  Mrs. 
Barry  held  out  her  smooth,  fair  hand.  "I 
hear  you  have  passed  through  a  very  trying 
experience,"  she  said  with  cold  courtesy. 
"I  am  glad  you  are  safe." 

The  light  went  out  of  the  girl's  eager  eyes. 
198 


THE  PALACE 


The  color  fled  from  her  face.  She  had  en 
dured  too  many  extremes  of  emotion  in  one 
day.  Miss  Mehitable  extended  her  arms 
to  her  with  a  yearning  smile.  Geraldine 
glided  to  her  and  quietly  fainted  away  on  that 
kindly  breast. 

"Poor  lamb,  poor  lamb,"  murmured  Miss 
Mehitable,  and  Ben,  frowning,  exclaimed: 
"Here,  let  me  take  her!" 

He  gathered  her  up  in  his  arms  and  carried 
her  into  the  house  and  laid  her  on  a  divan, 
Miss  Upton  panting  after  his  long  strides 
and  his  mother  deliberately  bringing  up  the 
rear.  Mrs.  Barry  knew  just  what  to  do  and 
she  did  it,  while  Miss  Upton  wrung  her  hands 
above  the  recumbent  white  figure.  When  the 
long  eyelashes  flickered  on  the  pallid  cheek, 
Ben  spoke  commandingly:  "I'll  take  her 
upstairs.  She  must  be  put  to  bed." 

Miss  Mehitable  came  to  herself  with  a 
rush.  "Not  here,"  she  said  decidedly.  "If 
you'll  let  me  have  the  car,  Mrs.  Barry,  we  '11 
be  out  of  your  way  in  five  minutes." 

Ben  looked  at  his  mother,  who  was  still 
cool  and  unexcited;  and  the  expression  on 
his  face  was  a  new  one  for  her  to  meet. 

"She  isn't  fit  to  be  moved,  Mother,  and 
199 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Miss  Upton  has  n't  room.  Miss  Melody  is 
exhausted.  She  has  had  a  frightful  experi 
ence,"  he  said  sternly. 

If  he  had  appealed  she  might  have  been 
touched,  but  it  is  doubtful.  The  grass  stains, 
the  quaint  shawl,  the  hair  that  was  rippling 
down  to  the  rug,  were  none  of  them  part  of 
her  visions  of  a  daughter-in-law,  and,  at  any 
rate,  Ben  should  n't  look  at  her  like  that  — 
at  her!  for  the  sake  of  a  friendless  waif  whose 
existence  he  had  not  suspected  one  week  ago. 

Miss  Upton,  understanding  the  situation 
perfectly,  saved  the  hostess  the  trouble  of 
replying. 

"It  won't  hurt  her  a  bit  to  drive  as  far 
as  my  house  after  she's  been  caperin'  all 
over  the  sky!"  she  exclaimed,  seizing  Ger- 
aldine's  hands. 

The  girl  heard  the  declaration  and  essayed 
to  rise  while  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  round  face 
bending  over  her. 

"I  want  to  go  with  you,"  she  said. 

"And  you're  going,  my  lamb,"  returned 
Miss  Mehitable. 

"Certainly,  you  shall  have  the  car,"  said 
Mrs.  Barry  suavely. 

She  wished  to  send  word  to  the  chauffeur, 
200 


THE  PALACE 


she  wished  to  give  Geraldine  tea,  she  was 
entirely  polite  and  sufficiently  solicitous,  but 
her  heir  looked  terrible  things,  and,  bringing 
around  the  car,  himself  drove  the  guests  to 
Miss  Upton's  Fancy  Goods  and  Notions. 

Geraldine  declined  his  help  to  walk  to  the 
door  of  the  shop.  Miss  Upton  had  her  arm 
around  her,  and  though  the  girl  was  pale  she 
gave  her  rescuer  a  look  full  of  gratitude; 
and  when  he  pressed  her  hand  she  answered 
the  pressure  and  restored  a  portion  of  his 
equanimity. 

"I  never,  never  shall  forget  this  happiest 
day  of  my  life,"  she  said. 

"And  don't  forget  we  are  going  to  get 
Pete,"  he  responded  eagerly,  holding  her 
hand  close,  "and  everything  is  going  to 
come  out  right." 

"Yes"  —  she  looked  doubtful  and  fright 
ened;  "but  if  you  get  Pete  don't  let  your 
mother  see  him.  She  is  —  she  could  n't 
bear  it." 

"Don't  judge  her,  Geraldine,"  he  begged. 
"She  is  glorious.  Ask  Miss  Upton.  Just  a 
little  —  a  little  shy  at  first,  you  know.  Miss 
Upton,  you  explain,  won't  you?" 

"Don't  fret,  Ben,"  said  Miss  Mehitable. 
20 1 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"You're  the  best  boy  on  earth,  and  I  want 
to  hear  all  about  it,  for  I'm  sure  you  did 
something  wonderful  to  get  her." 

"Yes,  wonderful,  Miss  Upton!"  echoed 
Geraldine,  with  another  heart-warming  smile 
at  her  deliverer  whose  own  smile  lessened 
and  died  as  he  walked  back  to  his  car.  By 
the  time  he  entered  it  he  was  frowning, 
thinking  of  his  "shy"  mother. 


202 


CHAPTER  XI 
MOTHER  AND  SON 

Miss  UPTON  had  looked  upon  the  parting 
amenities  of  the  two  young  people  with 
beaming  approval;  and  Geraldine's  first 
words  when  they  were  alone  astonished 
(her. 

As  soon  as  they  were  inside  the  shop  and 
the  door  closed,  the  young  girl  looked  ear 
nestly  into  her  friend's  eyes.  Miss  Mehit- 
able  returned  her  regard  affectionately.  The 
golden  hair  had  been  wound  up  and  secured 
with  Mrs.  Barry's  hairpins. 

"I  wish  there  were  some  way  by  which  I 
need  never  see  him  again,"  she  said. 

"Why,  Miss  Melody,  child,  what  do  you 
mean?  Every  word  I  told  you  in  my  letter 
was  true.  Perhaps  you  never  got  it,  but  I 
told  you  that  he  is  the  finest  — " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  believe  it,"  was  the  hasty 
reply.  "I  did  receive  your  letter,  and  some 
time  I  '11  tell  you  how,  and  what  a  comfort  it 
was  to  me.  Oh,  Miss  Upton"  —  the  girl 

203 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

threw  her  arms  around  the  stout  figure  — 
"I  can't  tell  you  what  it  means  to  me  for 
you  to  take  me  in;  and  this  is  your  shop  you 
told  me  of  —  "  she  released  Miss  Mehitable 
and  looked  about  —  "and  I'm  going  to  tend 
it  for  you  and  help  you  in  every  way  I  can.  It 
is  paradise  —  paradise  to  me,  Miss  Upton." 

Her  fervor  brought  a  lump  to  her  com 
panion's  throat,  but  she  knew  that  Mrs. 
Whipp  was  listening  from  the  sitting-room, 
and  Miss  Mehitable  did  love  peace. 

"Yes,  yes,  dear  child;  it'll  all  come  out 
right,"  she  said  vaguely,  patting  the  white 
shoulder.  "I  have  another  good  helper  and 
I  want  you  to  meet  her.  Come  with  me." 
She  led  the  girl  through  the  shop. 

Mrs.  Whipp  had  retreated  violently  from 
the  front  window  when  she  saw  the  closed 
car  drive  up,  and  now  she  was  standing,  at 
bay  as  it  were,  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  door 
way  through  which  her  employer  would 
bring  the  stranger.  Pearl  was  placidly  purr 
ing  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sinking  sun,  her 
milk-white  paws  tucked  under  her  soft  breast, 
the  only  unexcited  member  of  the  family. 

Mrs.  Whipp  had  excuse  for  staring  as  the 
young  girl  came  into  view.  Short  wisps  of 

204 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


golden  hair  waved  about  her  face.  Her 
beauty  struck  a  sort  of  awe  to  the  militant 
woman,  who  was  standing  on  a  mental  fence 
in  armed  neutrality  holding  herself  ready 
to  spring  down  on  that  side  which  would 
regard  the  stranger  as  an  interloper  come  to 
sponge  on  Miss  Upton,  or  possibly  she  might 
descend  upon  the  other  side  and  endure  the 
newcomer  passively. 

"This  is  our  little  girl,  Charlotte,"  said 
Miss  Mehitable;  "our  little  girl  to  take  care 
of,  and  who  wants  to  take  care  of  us.  This 
is  Mrs.  Whipp,  Geraldine." 

Charlotte  blinked  as  the  newcomer's  face 
relaxed  in  her  appealing  smile,  and  she  came 
forward  and  took  Mrs.  Whipp's  hard,  un- 
expectant  hand  in  her  soft  grasp.  "Such  a 
fortunate  girl  I  am,  Mrs.  Whipp,"  she  said, 
"I'm  sure  I  shall  inconvenience  you  at  first 
(this  fact  had  been  too  plainly  legible  on  the 
weazened  face  to  be  ignored),  but  I  will  try 
to  make  up  for  it  —  try  my  very  best,  and 
it  may  not  be  for  long." 

Charlotte  mumbled  some  inarticulate  greet 
ing,  falling  an  instant  victim  to  the  young 
creature's  humility  and  loveliness. 

"I  look  very  queer,  I  know,"  continued 
205 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Geraldine,  "but  you  see  I  just  came  down 
out  of  the  sky." 

"She  really  did,"  put  in  Miss  Upton. 
"She  came  in  Mr.  Barry's  areoplane." 

"Shan't  I  die!"  commented  Mrs.  Whipp, 
continuing  to  stare  with  a  pertinacity  equal 
to  Rufus  Carder's  own.  "I  believe  it.  She 
looks  like  an  angel,"  she  thought.  Miss 
Mehitable  watched  her  melting  mood  with 
inward  amusement. 

"What  a  beautiful  cat!"  said  Geraldine. 
"She's  tame,  isn't  she?  Will  she  let  you 
touch  her?" 

"Well,"  said  Charlotte  with  a  broader 
smile  than  had  been  seen  on  her  countenance 
for  many  a  day,  "I  guess  they  don't  have 
cats  in  the  sky."  She  lifted  Pearl  and  be 
stowed  her  in  Geraldine's  arms. 

The  girl  met  the  lazy,  golden  eyes  rather 
timorously,  but  she  took  her. 

"All  the  cats  where  —  where  I  was  — 
were  wild  —  and  no  one  —  no  one  fed  them, 
you  see." 

"Well,  this  cat  is  named  Pearl,"  said  Miss 
Mehitable.  "She's  Charlotte's  jewel  and 
you  can  bet  she  does  get  fed.  How  about  us, 
Charlotte?"  She  turned  to  the  waiting 

206 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


table.  "I  want  to  give  Miss  Melody  her 
supper  and  put  her  to  bed,  and  after  she  has 
slept  twelve  hours  we'll  get  her  to  tell  us 
how  it  feels  to  fly.  Thank  Heaven,  she's 
here  with  no  broken  bones." 

Meanwhile  Ben  Barry  had  reached  home 
and  made  a  rather  formal  toilet  for  the  eve 
ning  meal.  Even  before  his  mother  saw  it,  she 
knew  she  was  going  to  be  disciplined.  While 
the  waitress  remained  in  the  room  the  young 
man's  gravity  and  meticulous  politeness 
would  have  intimidated  most  mothers  with 
a  conscience  as  guilty  as  Mrs.  Barry's.  She 
was  forced  to  raise  her  napkin  several  times, 
not  to  dry  tears,  but  to  conceal  smiles  which 
would  have  been  sure  to  add  fuel  to  the 
flame. 

She  showed  her  temerity  by  soon  dismiss 
ing  the  servant.  Her  son  met  her  twinkling 
eyes  coldly.  She  leaned  across  the  table 
toward  him  and  revealed  the  handsome  teeth 
he  had  inherited. 

"Now,  Benny,  don't  be  ridiculous,"  she 
said. 

This  beginning  destroyed  his  completely. 
He  arrived  at  his  climax  at  once. 

"How  could  you  be  so  heartless!"  he 
207 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

exclaimed.  "She  had  told  me  she  wanted 
you  to  love  her.  Your  coldness  shocked 
her." 

This  appeal,  so  pathetic  to  the  speaker, 
caused  Mrs.  Barry  again  to  raise  her  napkin 
to  her  rebellious  lips. 

"I  tell  you,"  went  on  Ben  heatedly,  "she 
has  been  through  so  much  that  the  surprise 
and  humiliation  of  your  manner  made  her 
faint." 

"Now,  dear,  be  calm.  Did  n't  I  bring  her 
to  again?  Didn't  I  do  up  her  hair  —  it's 
beautiful,  but  I  like  it  better  wound  up,  in 
company  —  did  n't  I  want  to  give  her — " 

"Do  you  suppose,"  interrupted  Ben  more 
hotly,  "do  you  suppose  she  was  n't  conscious, 
and  hurt,  too,  by  her  unconventional  ap 
pearance?" 

He  was  arraigning  his  parent  now  with 
open  severity. 

"How  about  my  shock,  Ben?  I'm  old- 
fashioned,  you  know.  You  come,  leading 
that  odd  little  waif  and  displaying  so  much  — 
well,  enthusiasm,  was  n't  it  —  was  n't  the 
whole  thing  a  little  extreme?" 

"Yes,  the  situation  was  certainly  very 
extreme.  An  old  rascal  had  managed  to 

208 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


capture  that  flower  of  a  girl,  and  made  her 
believe  that  to  save  her  dead  father's  good 
name  she  must  marry  him.  I  come  along 
with  the  Scout  and  pick  her  up  out  of  a  field 
where  she  was  walking,  he  running,  and 
yelling,  and  firing  his  gun  at  us.  There  was 
scarcely  time  for  her  to  put  on  a  traveling 
costume  to  accord  with  your  ideas  of  de 
corum,  was  there?" 

Mrs.  Barry's  eyes  widened  as  they  gazed 
into  his  accusing  ones. 

"How  dreadful,"  she  said. 

"Yes;  and  even  in  all  her  relief  at  escaping, 
Miss  Melody  was  in  doubt  as  to  whether  she 
was  not  deserting  her  father's  cause  —  torn, 
as  the  books  say,  with  conflicting  emotions. 
You  may  think  it  was  all  very  pleasant." 

"Benny,  I  think  it  was  dreadful!  Awfully 
hard  for  you,  dear;  and,  oh,  that  wretch 
might  have  disabled  the  plane  and  hurt  you ! 
Why  did  I  ever  let  you  have  it?" 

"To  save  her!  That's  why  you  let  me 
have  it." 

His  mother  regarded  his  glowing  face. 
"What  a  wretched  mess!"  she  was  think 
ing.  "What  a  bother  that  the  girl  is  so 
pretty!" 

209 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"You  remember  the  other  evening  when 
I  came  home  from  that  motor-cycle  trip,  and 
the  next  day  Miss  Upton  came  and  told  you 
Miss  Melody's  story?" 

"Yes,  dear."  Mrs.  Barry  added  apolo 
getically,  "I'm  afraid  I  didn't  pay  strict 
attention." 

"Well,  it  is  a  pity  that  you  did  not,  for 
I've  known  ever  since  that  day  that  Geral- 
dine  Melody  is  the  only  girl  I  shall  ever 
marry." 

His  mother's  heart  beat  faster  as  she 
marked  the  expression  in  those  steady, 
young  eyes. 

There  was  silence  for  a  space  between 
them.  She  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  she 
did  so  with  a  cool,  unsmiling  demeanor 
which  reminded  him  of  childhood  days  when 
he  was  in  disgrace. 

"Then  you  care  nothing  for  what  sort  of 
mind  and  character  are  possessed  by  your 
future  wife.  The  skin-deep  part  is  all  that 
interests  you." 

"That's  what  she  said,"  he  responded 
quickly.  "I  suggested  that  she  put  affairs 
in  a  shape  where  it  would  be  of  no  use  for 
an  irritating  conscience  to  try  to  make 

210 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


trouble.  I  urged  her  to  marry  me  this  after 
noon  before  we  came  home." 

Mrs.  Barry's  nonchalance  deserted  her 
with  a  rush.  Her  face  became  crimson. 

"How  —  how  criminal!"  she  ejaculated. 

"That's  what  she  said,"  returned  Ben. 
"She  asked  if  I  hadn't  a  mother.  I  told 
her  I  had  a  glorious  one;  and  she  just  looked 
at  me  and  said:  'And  you  would  do  that  to 
her  just  because  I  have  nice  eyes." 

Mrs.  Barry  bit  her  lip  and  did  not  love 
the  waif  the  more  that  she  had  been  able  to 
defend  her. 

"What  is  the  use  of  being  a  mother! "  she 
ejaculated.  "What  is  the  use  of  expending 
your  whole  heart's  love  on  a  boy  for  his  life 
time,  when  he  will  desert  you  at  the  first 
temptation!" 

"Well,  she  would  n't  let  me,  dear,"  said 
Ben  more  gently,  flushing  and  feeling  his 
first  qualm.  "I  would  stake  my  life  that  she 
is  as  beautiful  within  as  without  and  that 
you  would  have  a  treasure  as  well  as  I.  It 
was  n't  deserting  you.  I  was  thinking  of  you. 
I  felt  she  was  worthy  of  you  and  no  one 
else  is." 

"This  is  raving,  Ben,"  said  his  mother, 
211 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

quiet  again.  "He  has  escaped,"  she  thought, 
"and  now  nothing  will  come  of  it."  She 
raised  her  drooping  head  and  again  regarded 
him  deprecatingly.  "Let  us  talk  of  some 
thing  else,"  she  added. 

"No,"  he  returned  firmly;  "not  until  you 
understand  that  I  am  entirely  in  earnest. 
You  had  your  love-affair,  now  I  am  having 
mine,  and  I  am  going  through  with  it,  openly 
and  in  the  sight  of  all  men.  I  urged  her  a 
second  time  to  marry  me  this  afternoon,  and 
she  looked  at  me  soberly  with  those  glorious 
eyes  and  her  only  answer  was :  ( I  want  your 
mother  to  love  me."  Ben  looked  off  remi- 
niscently.  "It  encouraged  me  to  hope  that 
she  cares  for  me  a  little  that  your  coldness 
bowled  her  over  so  completely." 

Mrs.  Barry  looked  at  him  helplessly,  and 
this  time  when  she  put  up  her  napkin  she 
touched  a  corner  of  her  eye. 

"We  stopped  at  the  landing-field  at 
Townley  and  had  our  talk,"  he  went  on. 

"And  she  seemed  refined?"  Mrs.  Barry's 
voice  was  a  little  uncertain. 

"Exquisite!"  he  exclaimed. 

"You  have  standards,  Ben,"  she  said. 
"You  could  n't  be  totally  fooled  by  beauty." 

212 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


He  smiled  upon  her  for  the  first  time  and 
a  very  warming  light  shone  in  his  eyes. 
"The  best,"  he  replied,  leaning  toward  her. 
"You." 

She  drew  a  long,  quavering  breath;  but 
she  scorned  weeping  women. 

Ben  watched  her  repressed  emotion. 

"Now  you  examine,  Mother,"  he  said 
gently.  "Take  your  New  England  magni- 
fying-glass  along,  and  when  she  will  see  you, 
put  her  to  the  test." 

"When  she  will  see  me?  What  do  you 
mean?"  asked  Mrs.  Barry  quickly. 

"Well"  —  Ben  shrugged  his  shoulders  — 
"we'll  see.  How  much  she  was  hurt,  how 
long  it  will  last,  I  don't  know,  of  course. 
You  can  try." 

"Try!"  repeated  the  queen  of  Keefe,  her 
handsome  face  coloring  faintly  above  her 
white  silken  gown. 

"Yes.  Miss  Upton  will  be  a  good  go- 
between,  when  she  is  placated.  You  saw  the 
partisan  in  her." 

Of  course,  it  was  all  very  absurd,  as  Mrs. 
Barry  told  herself  when  they  arose  from  the 
table;  but  there  was  no  denying  that  her 
throne  was  tottering.  Her  boy  was  no  longer 

213 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

all  hers.  Bitter,  bitter  discovery  for  most 
mothers  to  make  even  when  the  rival  is  not 
Miss  Nobody  from  Nowhere. 

The  next  morning  betimes  Ben  presented 
himself  at  the  Emporium.  He  drove  up  in 
his  roadster  and  rushed  in  upon  Miss  Upton 
with  an  arm  full  of  apple  blossoms. 

"How  is  she?"  he  inquired  eagerly. 

"Hush,  hush!  I  think  she 's  gom*  to  sleep 
again.  She 's  had  her  breakfast." 

"Mother  sent  her  these,"  he  went  on,  lay 
ing  the  fragrant  mass  on  the  counter  behind 
which  Miss  Mehitable  was  piling  up  goods 
for  packing. 

She  looked  at  him  and  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  drew  down.  "Ben  Barry,  what  do 
you  want  to  tell  such  a  lie  for?" 

"Because  I  think  it  sounds  nice,"  he  re 
turned,  unabashed.  "Really,  I  think  she 
would  if  she  dared,  you  know.  We  had  it 
out  last  night.  Now  what  are  you  going 
to  do  about  Miss  Melody's  clothes?" 

"Yes,  what  am  I?"  said  Miss  Upton. 
"Say,  Ben"  —  she  gave  his  arm  a  push  and 
lowered  her  voice — "what  do  you  s'pose 
Charlotte's  doin'?  She's  out  in  the  shed 
washin'  and  ironin'  Geraldine's  clothes." 

214 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


She  lifted  her  plump  shoulders  and  nudged 
Ben  again.  They  both  laughed. 

"Good  for  Lottie!"  remarked  Ben. 

"Oh,  she's  in  love,  just  in  love,"  said 
Miss  Mehitable.  "It's  too  funny  to  see  her. 
She  wants  to  wait  on  the  child  by  inches; 
but  clothes  —  Ben!  You  should  have  seen 
Geraldine  in  my  —  a  —  my  —  a  wrapper 
last  night!"  Miss  Mehitable  gave  vent  to 
another  stifled  chuckle.  "She  was  just  lost 
in  it,  and  we  had  to  hunt  for  her  and  fish 
her  out  and  put  her  into  something  of 
Charlotte's.  Charlotte  was  tickled  to  death." 
Again  the  speaker's  cushiony  fist  gave  Ben's 
arm  an  emphatic  nudge. 

He  smiled  sympathetically.  "I  suppose 
so,"  he  said;  "but  are  n't  you  going  to  town 
to-day  to  buy  her  some  things?" 

"What  with?"  Miss  Upton  grew  sober 
and  extended  both  hands  palms  upward. 
"I've  been  thinkin'  about  it  while  I  was 
workin'  here.  She  's  got  to  have  clothes.  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  some  o'  my  customers 
had  things  they  could  let  us  have.  Once 
your  mother  would  'a'  been  my  first 
thought." 

"Hand-me-downs?"  said  Ben,  flushing. 
215 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Nothing  doing.     Surely  you   have   credit 
at  the  stores." 

"Yes,  I  have,  but  it's  my  habit  to  pay  my 
bills,"  was  the  defiant  reply,  "and  that  girl 
needs  everything.  I  can't  buy  'em  all." 

Ben  patted  her  arm.  "Don't  speak  so 
loud,  you'll  wake  the  baby.  You  buy  the 
things,  Mehit.  I'll  see  that  they're  paid 
for." 

"How  your  mother  'd  love  that!" 

"My  mother  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it." 

"Why,  you  ain't  even  self-supportin'  yet," 
declared  Miss  Upton  bluntly.  "'T  ain't 
anything  to  your  discredit,  of  course;  you 
ain't  ready,"  she  added  kindly. 

Ben's  steady  eyes  kept  on  looking  into 
hers  and  his  low  voice  replied:  "My  father 
died  suddenly,  you  remember.  He  had  de 
stroyed  one  will  and  not  yet  made  another. 
I  have  money  of  my  own,  quite  a  lot  of  it, 
to  tell  the  truth.  Now  if  you'd  just  let  me 
fly  you  over  to  town  — " 

Miss  Mehitable  started.  "Fly  me  over, 
you  lunatic!" 

"Well,  let  us  go  in  the  train,  then.  I'll  go 
with  you.  I  know  in  a  general  way  just  what 

216 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


she  ought  to  wear.    Soft  silky  things  and  a  — 
a  droopy  hat." 

"Ben  Barry,  you've  taken  leave  o'  your 
senses.  Don't  you  know  that  everything  I 
get  her,  that  poor  child  will  want  to  pay  for 
—  work,  and  earn  the  money?  If  I  buy  any 
thing  for  her,  it's  goin'  to  be  somethin'  she 
can  pay  for  before  she 's  ninety." 

Ben  sighed.  "All  right,  Mehit!  have  it 
your  own  way,  only  get  a  move.  I  can't 
take  her  out  till  she  gets  a  hat." 

"You  have  n't  got  to  take  her  out,"  re 
torted  Miss  Upton  decidedly.  "She  don't 
want  to  go  out  with  you.  It  was  only  last 
night  she  was  savin'  she  wished  she  might 
never  see  you  again." 

"Huh!"  ejaculated  Ben.  "Poor  girl,  I'm 
sorry  for  her,  then.  She  is  going  to  stumble 
over  me  every  time  she  turns  around.  She 
is  going  to  see  me  till  she  cries  for  mercy." 

He  smiled  into  Miss  Upton's  doubtful, 
questioning  face  for  a  silent  space. 

"Don't  worry  about  that,"  he  said  at  last. 
"Just  go  upstairs  and  put  on  your  duds, 
like  the  dear  thing  you  are,  and  get  the  next 
train."  The  speaker  looked  at  his  watch. 
"You  can  catch  it  all  right." 
217 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"I  never  heard  o'  such  a  thing,"  said  Miss 
Mehitable.  She  had  made  her  semi-annual 
trip  to  the  city.  The  idea  of  going  back 
again  with  no  preparation  was  startling  — 
and  also  expensive. 

Ben  perceived  that  if  there  were  to  be  any 
initiative  here  he  would  have  to  furnish  it. 

:'You  don't  expect  to  open  the  shop  again 
until  you  have  moved,  do  you?" 

"No,"  admitted  Miss  Upton  reluctantly. 

"Then  you  can  take  your  time.  Take 
these  flowers  upstairs,  ask  her  what  size 
things  she  wears,  and  hurry  up  and  catch 
the  train." 

Miss  Upton  brought  her  gaze  back  from 
its  far-away  look  and  she  appeared  to  come 
to  herself.  "Look  here,  Ben  Barry,  I'm  not 
goin'  to  be  crazy  just  because  you  are.  Her 
clean  clothes  '11  be  all  ready  for  her  by  night. 
I  can  buy  her  a  sailor  hat  right  here  in  the 
village  and  maybe  a  jacket.  She  's  got  to 
go  to  town  with  me.  The  idea  of  buyin'  a  lot 
of  clothes  and  maybe  not  havin'  'em  right." 

"You're  perfectly  correct,  Miss  Upton." 

The  young  man  took  out  his  pocket-book 
and  handed  his  companion  a  bill.  "This  is 
for  your  fares,"  he  said. 

218 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


Miss  Mehitable's  troubled  brow  cleared 
even  while  she  blushed,  seeing  that  he  had 
read  her  thoughts. 

"I  don't  know  as  this  is  exactly  proper, 
Ben,"  she  said  doubtfully. 

"Take  my  word  for  it,  it  is,"  he  replied. 
"Let  me  be  your  conscience  for  a  few  weeks. 
I  may  not  see  you  for  a  day  or  two.  I  have 
another  little  job  of  kidnapping  on  hand;  so 
I  put  you  on  your  honor  to  do  your  part." 

He  was  gone,  and  Miss  Upton,  placing  the 
sturdy  stems  of  the  apple  blossoms  in  a 
pitcher  of  water,  carried  them  upstairs. 
She  tiptoed  into  the  room  where  Geraldine 
was  in  bed,  but  the  girl  was  awake  and  gave 
an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"Have  you  an  apple  tree,  too?"  she  asked. 

"No,  Mr.  Barry  brought  these  over." 

The  girl's  face  sobered  as  she  buried  it  in 
the  blooms  Miss  Upton  offered.  Miss  Me- 
hitable  looked  admiringly  at  the  golden 
braids  hanging  over  the  pillows. 

"Do  you  feel  rested?"  she  asked. 

"Perfectly,  and  I  know  I  have  taken  your 
bed.  To-night  we  will  make  me  a  nice  nest 
on  the  floor." 

Miss  Upton  smiled.  "Oh,  I've  got  a  cot. 
219 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

We  '11  do  all  right.  Do  you  s'pose  there  is 
any  way  we  could  get  your  clothes  from  that 
fiend  on  the  farm?"  she  added. 

Geraldine  shrank  and  shook  her  head.  "  I 
would  n't  dare  try,"  she  replied. 

"Then  you  and  I've  got  to  go  to  town  to 
morrow,"  said  Miss  Upton,  "and  get  you 
something." 

The  girl  returned  her  look  seriously  and 
caught  her  lip  under  her  teeth  for  a  silent 
space. 

"Yes,  I  know  what  you're  thinkin'," 
said  Miss  Mehitable  cheerfully;  "but  the 
queerest  thing  and  the  nicest  thing  happened 
to  me  this  mornin'.  I  got  some  money  that 
I  did  n't  expect.  Just  in  the  nick  o'  time, 
you  see.  We  can  go  to  town  and  — " 

Geraldine  reached  up  a  hand  and  took 
that  of  her  friend,  her  face  growing  eager. 

"How  splendid!"  she  exclaimed.  "Then 
we  will  go  and  get  me  the  very  simplest 
things  I  can  get  along  with  and  we  '11  keep 
account  of  every  cent  and  I  will  pay  it  all 
back  to  you.  Do  you  know  I  think  this  bed 
of  yours  is  full  of  courage?  At  any  rate, 
when  I  waked  up  this  morning  I  found  all 
my  hopefulness  had  come  back.  I  feel  that 

220 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


I  am  going  to  make  my  living  and  not  be  a 
burden  on  anyone.  It's  wonderful  to  feel 
that  way!" 

"Of  course  you  are,  child."  Miss  Upton 
patted  the  hand  that  grasped  hers.  "But 
first  off,  you  '11  have  to  help  me  move.  I've 
got  a  lot  o'  packin'  to  do,  you  understand. 
I'm  movin'  my  shop  to  Keefeport.  I  al 
ways  do  summers." 

For  answer  Geraldine,  who  had  been  lean 
ing  on  her  elbow,  sat  up  quickly,  evidently 
with  every  intention  of  rising. 

"Get  back  there,"  laughed  Miss  Mehitable. 
"Your  clothes  ain't  ironed  yet.  I'll  move 
the  apple  blossoms  up  side  of  you  —  " 

"Don't,  please,"  said  Geraldine,  as  she 
lay  down  reluctantly.  "I  think  I'd  rather 
they  would  keep  their  distance  —  like  their 


owner." 


"Now,  child,"  said  Miss  Mehitable  coax- 
ingly.  "Mrs.  Barry's  one  o'  the  grandest 
women  in  the  world.  I  felt  pretty  hot  my 
self  yesterday  —  I  might  as  well  own  it  — 
but  that'll  all  smooth  over.  She  didn't 
mean  a  thing  except  that  she  was  surprised." 

"We  can't  blame  her  for  that,"  re 
turned  Geraldine,  "but  —  but  —  I'm  sorry 
221 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

he  brought  the  flowers.  I  wonder  if  you 
could  n't  make  him  understand  —  very 
kindly,  you  know,  Miss  Upton,  that  I  want 
to  be  —  just  to  be  forgotten." 

Miss  Upton  pursed  her  lips  and  her  eyes 
laughed  down  into  the  earnest  face.  "I'm 
afraid,  child,  I  don't  know  any  language 
that  could  make  him  understand  that." 

Geraldine  did  not  smile.  She  felt  that  in 
those  intense  hours  of  yesterday,  freed  from 
every  convention  of  earth,  they  two  had  lived 
a  lifetime.  She  would  rather  dwell  on  its 
memory  henceforth  than  run  the  risk  of 
any  more  shocks.  Peace  and  forgetfulness. 
That  is  what  she  felt  she  needed  from 
now  on. 

"He  said  he  was  goin'  on  another  kid- 
nappin'  errand  now,"  remarked  Miss  Upton. 

The  girl  looked  up  quickly  from  her  intro 
spection.  A  startled  look  sprang  into  her 
eyes  and  she  sat  up  in  bed. 

"Oh,  Miss  Upton,  you  know  him!"  she 
exclaimed,  gazing  at  her  friend.  "Does  he 
keep  solemn  promises?" 

"I'm  sure  he  does,  child.  What's  the 
matter  now?" 

"He  promised  me  —  oh,  he  promised  me, 
222 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


he  would  n't  go  back  to  that  farm  alone." 
The  girl's  eyes  filled  with  tears  that  over 
flowed  on  her  suddenly  pale  cheeks. 

Miss  Mehitable  sat  down  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed  and  patted  her,  while  Geraldine 
wiped  the  drops  away  with  the  long  sleeve  of 
Charlotte's  unbleached  nightgown.  "Then 
he  won't,  dear,  don't  you  worry,"  she  said 
comfortingly.  "Where's  that  courage  you 
were  talkin'  about  just  now?" 

"That  was  for  myself,"  said  the  girl 
grievously,  accepting  the  handkerchief  Miss 
Upton  gave  her. 

"Who  else  does  he  want  out  o'  that  God 
forsaken  place?"  asked  Miss  Upton  impa 
tiently.  "I  wish  to  goodness  that  boy  could 
stay  put  somewhere." 

"It's  a  servant,  a  dwarf,  a  poor  little 
friendless  boy  who  was  kind  to  me  there.  If 
it  had  n't  been  for  him  I  should  n't  be  here 
now.  I  should  be  dying  —  there!  Mr. 
Barry  is  going  to  get  him  and  bring  him  away. 
Oh,  why  did  n't  I  prevent  him!"  Geraldine 
broke  down  completely,  weeping  broken- 
heartedly  into  the  handkerchief. 

Miss  Upton  smiled  over  her  head.  She 
knew  nothing  of  Rufus  Carder's  shot-gun, 
223 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

and  she  was  thinking  of  Geraldine's  earnest 
request  that  Ben  Barry  should  forget  her. 

"Now,  stop  that  right  away,  my  child,"  she 
said,  enjoying  herself  hugely.  She  had  seen  Ben 
Barry's  heart  in  his  eyes  as  he  came  walking 
under  the  apple  blossoms  yesterday  and  this 
revelation  of  Geraldine's  was  most  pleasing. 

"Stop  cryin',"  she  said  with  authority. 
"Ben  Barry's  just  as  smart  as  he  is  brave. 
He  ain't  goin'  to  take  any  foolish  risk  now 
that  you're  safe.  I  don't  know  what  he 
wants  the  boy  for,  but  probably  it 's  some 
good  reason;  and  if  you  don't  stop  workin' 
yourself  up,  you  won't  be  fit  to  go  to  town 
to-morrow.  I  want  you  should  stay  in  bed 
all  day.  Now,  you  behave  yourself,  my 
lamb.  Ben '11  come  back  all  right." 

Geraldine  flushed  through  her  tears.  It 
was  heavenly  to  be  scolded  by  some  one  who 
loved  her. 

She  looked  at  the  pitcher  exiled  to  the 
bureau.  "I  —  I  think  you  might  as  well 
move  the  apple  blossoms  here,"  she  said, 
wiping  her  eyes  and  speaking  meekly. 

"All  right,"  said  Miss  Mehitable,  beaming, 
and  she  proceeded  to  set  a  light  stand  beside 
the  bed  and  placed  the  rosy  mass  upon  it. 

224 


MOTHER  AND   SON 


Toward  night  came  a  parcel-post  package 
for  Miss  Geraldine  Melody.  Miss  Upton 
and  Charlotte  both  stood  by  with  eager 
interest  while  the  girl  sat  up  in  bed  and 
opened  it.  None  of  the  three  had  ever  seen 
such  a  box  of  bonbons  as  was  disclosed.  It 
was  a  revelation  of  dainty  richness,  and  the 
older  women  exclaimed  while  Geraldine 
bowed  her  fair  head  over  this  new  evidence 
of  thoughtfulness.  The  long  sleeves  of 
Charlotte's  nightgown,  the  patchwork  quilt 
of  the  bed,  the  homely  surroundings,  all 
made  the  contrast  of  the  gift  more  striking. 
There  was  a  card  upon  it.  Ben  Barry's  card: 
Geraldine  turned  it  over  and  read:  "Is  the 
princess  happy?" 

She  was  back  among  the  clouds,  the 
bright  spring  air  flowing  past  her,  each 
breath  a  wonderful  memory. 

The  two  women  looked  at  one  another. 
They  saw  her  close  her  hand  on  the  card. 
She  lifted  the  box  to  them,  and  raised  her 
pensive  eyes. 

"It  is  for  us  all,"  she  said  softly;  but  her 
ardent  thought  was  repeating: 

"He  would  —  he  will  take  care  of  himself, 
forme!" 

225 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  TRANSFORMATION 

INTO  the  village  nearest  the  Carder  farm 
rolled  Ben  Barry's  roadster.  He  stopped  at 
the  inn  which  made  some  pretension  to  fur 
nishing  entertainment  to  the  motorists  who 
found  it  on  their  route,  and  after  a  luncheon 
put  up  his  car  and  walked  to  the  village 
center  to  the  post-office  and  grocery  store. 
He  had  most  hope  of  the  latter  as  a  bureau  of 
information. 

After  buying  some  cigarettes  and  choco 
late,  and  exchanging  comments  on  the 
weather  with  the  proprietor,  he  introduced 
his  subject. 

"I  believe  Rufus  Carder  lives  near  here," 
he  remarked. 

"Yus,  oh,  yus,"  agreed  the  man,  who  was 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  who  here  patronized 
the  cuspidor. 

"He's  pretty  well-to-do,  I  understand.  I 
should  suppose  if  he  is  public-spirited  his 

226 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

being  in  the  neighborhood  would  be  a  great 
advantage  to  the  village." 

"Yus,  if"  returned  the  grocer,  scornfully. 
"The  bark  on  a  tree  ain't  a  circumstance  to 
him.  Queer  now,  ain't  it?"  he  went  on  ar- 
gumentatively.  "Carder's  a  rich  man,  and 
so  many  o'  these-here  rich  men,  they  act 
as  if  they  was  n't  ever  goin'  to  die.  Where 's 
the  satisfaction  in  not  usin'  their  money? 
You  know  him?"  The  speaker  cocked  an 
eye  up  at  the  handsome  young  stranger. 

"I  —  I've  met  him,"  returned  Ben. 

"You  might  be  interested,  then,  to  hear 
about  what  happened  out  to  the  farm  yister- 
day.  P'r'aps  it  '11  be  in  the  paper  to-night. 
A  young  girl  visitin'  the  Carders  was  kid 
napped  right  out  o'  the  field  by  an  areoplane. 
Yes,  sir,  slick  as  a  whistle."  Ben's  look  of 
interest  and  amazement  rewarded  the  narra 
tor.  "One  o'  the  hands  from  the  farm  come 
in  last  night  and  told  about  it,  but  the  edi 
tor  o'  the  paper  thought 't  was  a  hoax  and  he 
did  n't  dare  to  work  on  it  last  night.  Lots 
of  us  saw  the  plane,  but  the  feller's  story  did 
sound  fishy,  and  if  the  Sunburst  —  that's 
our  paper  —  should  print  a  lot  o'  stuff  about 
Carder  shootin'  guns  and  foamin*  at  the 
227 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

mouth  when  he  saw  the  girl  he  was  goin'  to 
marry  fly  up  into  the  sky  and  *t  wcfri't  so  — 
ye  see,  't  would  go  mighty  hard  with  our 
editor.'' 

"Why  did  n't  he  send  somebody  right  out 
to  the  farm  to  inquire?"  asked  Ben. 

The  grocer  smiled,  looked  off,  and  shook  his 
head. 

"You  say  you've  met  Rufus  Carder? 
Well,  ye  don't  know  him  or  else  ye  would  n't 
ask  that.  Don't  monkey  with  the  buzz-saw 
is  a  pretty  good  motter  where  he 's  concerned. 
I  'm  lookin'  f  er  Pete  now.  This  is  his  day  to 
come  in  an'  stock  up.  He 's  so  stupid  he 
could  n't  make  up  anything,  and  we  '11  know 
fer  sure  if  there's  any  truth  at  all  in  the 
story." 

"Who  is  Pete  —  a  son?"  Ben  put  the 
question  calmly,  considering  his  elation  at 
his  good  luck.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  might  have  to  spend  days  in  this 
soporific  hamlet. 

The  grocer  looked  at  him  quickly  from 
under  his  bushy  eyebrows. 

"What  made  ye  ask  that?  Some  folks 
say  he  is.  Say,  are  you  one  o'  these  here 
detectives?  Be  you  after  Carder?  Pete's  a 

228 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

boy  they  took  out  of  an  asylum,  and  if  he  'd 
ever  had  any  care  he  would  n't  be  bandy 
legged  and  undersized,  but  don't  you  say 
I've  told  ye  anything,  'cause  I  have  n't." 

Ben  smiled  into  the  startled,  suspicious 
face.  "Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  answered.  "I'm 
just  motoring  about  these  parts  on  a  little 
vacation,  and  I  got  out  of  cigarettes,  so  I 
called  on  you." 

"There 's  Pete  now!"  exclaimed  the  grocer 
eagerly,  hurrying  out  from  behind  the  counter 
and  to  the  door. 

Other  of  the  neighbors  recognized  the 
Carder  car  and  came  out  to  question  the  boy, 
who  by  the  time  he  entered  the  grocery  found 
himself  confronting  an  audience  who  all 
asked  questions  at  once.  Pete's  shock  of 
hair  stood  up  as  usual  like  a  scrubbing-brush; 
he  wore  no  hat,  and  his  dull  eyes  looked 
about  from  one  to  another  eager  face.  Ben 
had  strolled  back  of  a  tall  pile  of  starch- 
boxes. 

"Is  it  true  an  areoplane  come  down  in 
Mr.  Carder's  field  yisterday?"  The  ques 
tion  volleyed  at  the  dwarf  from  a  dozen 
directions. 

He  stared  at  them  all  dumbly,  and  they 
229 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

cried  at  him  the  more,  one  woman  shaking 
him  by  the  shoulder. 

"Look  here,  shut  up,  all  of  you!"  said  the 
proprietor;  "let  the  boy  do  his  business  first. 
Ye  '11  put  it  all  out  of  his  head.  What  d'ye 
want,  Pete?" 

The  dwarf  drew  a  list  out  of  his  pocket 
and  handed  it  to  the  grocer  upon  which  the 
bystanders  all  fell  upon  him  again. 

As  Ben  regarded  the  dwarf,  he  felt  some 
reflection  of  Geraldine's  compassion  for  the 
forlorn  little  object  in  his  ragged  clothes, 
and  he  realized  that  it  was  a  wonder  that 
the  poor,  stultified  brain  had  possessed 
enough  initiative  to  carry  out  the  important 
part  he  had  played  in  their  lives. 

While  the  grocer's  clerk  was  putting  up 
the  packages  the  man  himself  laid  his  hand 
on  Pete's  shoulder. 

"Now  then,  boy,"  he  said  kindly,  "an 
areoplane  dived  down  out  o'  the  sky  into 
your  medder  yisterday  and  picked  up  a 
homely,  stupid  girl  and  flew  off  with  her." 

"She  was  an  angel!"  exclaimed  the  dwarf. 
His  dull  eyes  brightened  and  looked  away. 
"She  was  more  beautiful  than  flowers." 

"She  was,  eh?"  returned  the  grocer,  and 
230 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

the  crowd  listened  breathlessly.  "They 
say  your  master  was  goin'  to  marry  her? 
That  a  fact?" 

The  light  went  out  of  Pete's  face  and  his 
lips  closed. 

The  grocer  shook  him  gently  by  the 
shoulder.  "Speak  up,  boy.  Was  there 
any  shootin'?  Did  the  air  turn  blue  'round 
there?" 

Pete's  lips  did  not  open  for  a  moment. 
"Master  told  me  not  to  talk,"  he  said  at 
last. 

A  burst  of  excited  laughter  came  from  the 
crowd.  "Then  it's  true,  it's  true!"  they 
cried. 

The  grocer  kept  his  hand  on  the  dwarf's 
shoulder.  "Ye  might  as  well  tell,"  he  said, 
"'cause  Hiram  Jones  come  in  last  night  and 
told  us  all  about  it." 

Pete's  lips  remained  closed. 

"Give  ye  a  big  lump  o'  chocolate  if  ye '11 
tell  us,"  said  one  woman. 

"Master  told  me  not  to  talk,"  was  all  the 
boy  would  say. 

The  grocer's  clerk  went  out  to  the  auto 
with  a  basket  and  packed  the  purchases  into 
it. 

231 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Ben  came  from  behind  the  starch  boxes, 
went  out  the  door,  and  accosted  him. 

"Do  you  want  to  make  five  dollars?"  he 
asked. 

"Do  I?"  drawled  the  boy,  winking  at  him. 
"Ain't  I  got  a  girl?" 

"Then  jump  in  and  drive  this  car  out 
to  the  Carder  farm.  I  want  to  talk  to 
Pete." 

"Eh-h-h!  You're  a  reporter!"  cried  the 
boy.  "Less  see  the  money." 

Ben  promptly  produced  it.  "In  with 
you  now." 

"Sure,  I'll  have  to  speak  to  Pete,"  the  boy 
demurred.  "He  can't  walk  out  to  the  farm 
with  them  phony  legs." 

"In  with  you,"  repeated  the  tall  stranger 
firmly.  "Go  now  or  not  at  all."  He  held 
the  bill  before  the  boy's  eyes.  "I  have  my 
car  at  the  inn.  I'll  take  care  of  Pete." 

The  boy  looked  eagerly  at  the  money. 
"Can't  I  tell  the  boss?" 

"I'll  fix  it  with  the  boss.  Here's  your 
money.  In  with  you." 

The  next  minute  the  car  was  rattling 
down  the  street  and  Ben  went  back  into 
the  store  where  Pete  was  still  being  badgered 

232 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

by  a  laughing  crowd  persisting  in  questions 
about  the  angel. 

As  Pete  caught  sight  of  him,  the  obstinate 
expression  in  his  dull  eyes  did  not  at  first 
change,  but  in  a  minute  something  familiar 
in  the  look  of  the  stranger  impressed  him, 
and  suddenly  he  knew. 

"Was  it  you  ?  Was  it  you  ? "  the  boy  blurted 
out,  elbowing  the  others  aside  and  approach 
ing  Ben  eagerly. 

The  bystanders  looked  curiously  at  the 
stranger  and  at  the  excited  boy. 

"I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you, 
Pete,"  said  Ben.  The  dwarf's  staring  eyes 
had  filled. 

"  Is  she  here  ?  Has  she  come  down  again  ? " 
he  cried,  unmindful  of  the  gaping  listeners. 

"Be  quiet,"  returned  Ben.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  grocer.  "I've  sent  your  boy 
on  an  errand,"  he  said,  and  he  handed  the 
man  a  bill.  "Will  that  pay  you  for  his 
time?  I've  paid  him." 

He  put  his  hand  on  Pete's  shoulder  and  led 
him  through  the  crowd  out  to  the  street. 

"Master's  car  has  gone,"  cried  the  dwarf, 
looking  wildly  up  and  down  the  street. 

"I  have  taken  care  of  it,"  said  Ben  quietly. 

233 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"But  I  must  find  it,"  declared  Pete,  be 
ginning  to  shake. 

Ben  saw  his  abject  terror. 

"There's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,  Pete, 
nothing  any  more,"  said  Ben.  "Do  you 
want  to  see  Miss  Melody?" 

"Oh,  Master!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  looking 
up  and  meeting  a  kindly  look. 

"Then  come  with  me.  Let  us  hurry." 
Reaching  the  inn,  Ben  paid  his  bill  while 
Pete's  eyes  roved  about  in  all  directions 
for  his  goddess. 

Leading  the  boy  out  to  the  garage  he 
bade  him  enter  the  machine.  Even  here 
Pete  hesitated,  his  weight  of  terrifying 
responsibility  still  hanging  over  him. 

"Master's  car!"  he  gasped,  looking  im 
ploringly  up  into  Ben's  face. 

"It  has  gone  home,  back  to  the  farm," 
said  Ben.  "Don't  worry.  There's  nothing 
to  worry  about." 

Pete  was  trembling  as  he  entered  the 
roadster.  He  wondered  if  he  were  dream 
ing.  All  this  could  n't  be  real.  Nothing 
had  ever  happened  to  him  before  except  his 
goddess. 

Ben  put  on  speed  and  the  car  flew  out  of 

234 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

the  village  and  along  the  highroad.  They 
entered  another  village,  but  halted  not. 
Through  it  they  sped  and  again  out  into 
the  open  country. 

Pete  felt  dazed,  but  the  man  of  the  motor 
cycle,  Master  had  said,  was  the  man  of  the 
aeroplane.  He  was  here  beside  him,  big, 
powerful.  The  dwarf  felt  that  he  was  risk 
ing  his  own  life  on  the  hope  of  seeing  his 
goddess,  for  what  would  Rufus  Carder  say 
to  him  when  he  finally  returned  to  the  farm, 
a  deserter  from  his  duty. 

Silently  they  sped  on.  Just  once  Pete 
spoke,  for  his  heart  had  sunk. 

"Shall  we  see  her,  Master?"  he  asked 
unsteadily. 

Ben  turned  and  smiled  at  him  cheerfully. 

"Sure  thing,"  he  answered.  "She  is  well 
and  she  wants  to  see  you." 

Pete  had  had  no  practice  in  smiling,  but 
a  joyful  reassurance  pervaded  him.  Let 
Rufus  Carder  kill  him,  if  it  must  be.  This 
would  come  first. 

Darkness  had  fallen  when  they  finally 
entered  a  town  and  drove  to  a  hotel.  Ben 
looked  rather  ruefully  at  the  poor  little 
scarecrow  beside  him  with  his  hatless  scrub- 

235 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

bing-brush  of  a  head,  but  the  keeper  of  the 
garage  consented  to  give  the  boy  a  place  to 
sleep. 

"At  least,"  thought  Ben,  "it  will  be  more 
comfortable  than  the  boards  outside  Ger- 
aldine's  door." 

He  saw  to  it  that  the  dwarf  should  have 
a  good  supper,  after  which  Pete  presented 
himself  at  Ben's  room  as  he  had  been  ordered 
to  do.  Never  before  in  his  life  had  he  had  all 
the  meat  and  potato  he  wanted,  and  still 
marveling  at  the  wonderful  things  happen 
ing  to  him  he  was  conducted  to  Ben, 
and  stood  before  him  with  questioning 
eyes. 

"Is  she  here,  Master?"  he  asked. 

"No,  but  we  shall  see  her  to-morrow." 

"When  —  when  do  I  go  back  to  the  farm?" 
asked  the  boy. 

"Never,"  replied  Ben  calmly. 

"Master!"  exclaimed  the  dwarf,  and  could 
say  no  more.  His  tanned  face  grew  darker 
with  the  rush  of  crimson. 

"You  're  my  servant  now,"  said  Ben, 
and  his  good-humored  expression  shone  upon 
an  eager  face  that  worked  pitifully. 

"What  —  what  can  I  do?"  stammered 
236 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

Pete,   his   rough   hands   with   their  broken 
nails  working  together. 

"You  can  get  into  the  bathtub." 

"Wha  —  what,  Master?" 

Ben  threw  open  the  door  of  his  bath 
room. 

"Draw  that  tub  full  of  water  and  use  up 
all  the  soap  on  yourself.  Make  yourself 
clean  for  to-morrow.  Understand?" 

Pete  did  n't  understand  anything.  He  was 
in  a  blissful  daze.  He  had  never  seen  faucets 
except  the  one  in  the  Carder  kitchen.  Ben 
had  to  draw  the  water  for  him,  showing 
him  the  hot  and  the  cold;  finally  making 
him  understand  that  he  was  not  to  get  in 
with  his  clothes  on,  and  that  he  was  to  use 
any  and  all  of  those  fresh  white  towels,  the 
like  of  which  the  boy  had  never  seen;  then  ' 
his  new  master  came  out,  closed  the  door, 
and  laughing  to  himself  sat  down  to  wait 
and  read  a  magazine. 

There  was  a  mighty  splashing  in  the  bath 
room. 

"Clean  to  see  her.  Clean  to  see  her," 
Pete  kept  saying  to  himself.  He  was  going 
to  be  able  to  speak  to  her  with  no  one  to 
object.  He  was  going  to  work  for  this  god 

237 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

who  could  fly  down  out  of  the  sky.  Rufus 
Carder  might  come  to  find  him  later  and 
kill  him,  but  that  was  no  matter. 

When  finally  the  bathroom  door  opened 
and  again  arrayed  in  his  disreputable  clothes 
the  dwarf  appeared,  Ben  spoke  without  look 
ing  up  from  his  magazine. 

"Did  you  let  the  water  out  of  the  tub?" 

"No,  Master.    I  did  n't  know." 

Ben  got  up,  and  Pete  followed  him,  eager 
for  the  lesson.  Ben  viewed  the  color  of  the 
water  frothing  with  suds. 

"I  think  you  must  be  clean,"  he  remarked 
dryly,  as  he  opened  the  waste-pipe,  "or  at 
least  you  will  be  after  a  few  more  ducks." 

"Yes,  Master,  to  see  her." 

He  showed  the  boy  how  to  wash  out  the 
tub  which  the  little  fellow  did  with  a  will. 

"Now,  then,  to  bed  with  you,  and  we'll 
have  an  early  breakfast,  for  we  have  a  busy 
day  to-morrow.  Good-night." 

Pete  ambled  away  to  the  garage  so  happy 
that  he  still  felt  himself  in  a  dream.  To  see 
his  goddess,  and  never  to  go  back  to  Rufus 
Carder!  Those  two  facts  chased  each  other 
around  a  rosy  circle  in  his  brain  until  he  fell 
asleep. 

238 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

When  Ben  Barry  came  out  of  his  room 
the  next  morning  he  found  Pete  squatting 
outside  his  door.  He  regarded  the  broken, 
earth-stained  shoes  and  the  ragged  coat  and 
trousers,  which  if  they  had  ever  been  of  a 
distinct  color  were  of  none  now,  and  the 
thick  mop  of  hair.  The  eyes  raised  to  his 
met  a  gay  smile. 

"Hello,  there,"  said  Ben.  "Did  you 
think  I  might  get  away?" 

The  dwarf  rose.  "  I  —  I  did  n't  —  did  n't 
know  how  much  —  much  was  a  dream,"  he 
stammered. 

"I  hope  you  had  a  real  breakfast,"  said 
Ben. 

The  dwarf  smiled.  It  was  a  dreary,  un 
accustomed  sort  of  crack  in  his  weather- 
beaten  face.  "I  had  coffee,  too,"  he  re 
plied  in  an  awestruck  tone. 

Ben  laughed.  "Good  enough.  You  go 
out  to  the  car  and  wait  till  I  come.  I'm 
going  to  my  breakfast  now." 

In  less  than  an  hour  they  were  on  their 
way.  Pete's  eyes  had  lost  their  dullness. 

Ben  drove  to  a  department  store,  on  a 
small  scale  such  as  the  cities  boast.  He 
parked  his  car,  and  when  he  told  Pete  to  get 
239 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

out  the  boy  began  looking  about  at  once  for 
Geraldine. 

"Is  she  here,  Master?"  he  asked  as  they 
entered  the  store. 

"No,  we  shall  see  her  to-night,"  was  the 
reply. 

Then  more  miracles  began  to  happen  to 
Pete.  He  was  taken  from  one  section  to  an 
other  in  the  store  and  when  he  emerged 
again  into  the  street,  he  hardly  knew  him 
self.  He  was  wearing  new  underclothes, 
stockings,  shoes,  coat,  vest;  even  the  phony 
legs  had  been  cared  for  in  the  trousers, 
cut  off  to  suit  the  little  fellow's  peculiar 
needs,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  have  grown 
larger  in  the  process.  Under  his  arm 
he  carried  a  box  containing  more  under 
wear. 

Next  they  drove  to  a  barber's  where 
Pete's  hair  was  properly  cut;  then  to  a  hat 
store  and  he  was  fitted  to  a  hat. 

When  they  came  out,  Ben  regarded  his 
work  whimsically.  The  boy  was  not  a  bad- 
looking  boy.  He  liked  the  direct  manner  of 
the  dwarf's  grateful,  almost  reverent,  gaze 
up  into  his  own  merry  eyes.  There  was 
nothing  shifty  there. 

240 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

When  they  reentered  the  roadster,  Ben 
spoke  to  him  before  he  started  the  car. 

"Do  you  know  why  I  have  done  all  this, 
Pete?" 

The  boy  shook  his  head.  "Because  you 
came  down  out  of  the  sky?"  he  questioned. 

"No,  it  is  just  because  you  took  care  of 
Miss  Melody;  because  you  put  those  letters 
underneath  her  door." 

Pete's  face  crimsoned  with  happiness.  "I 
helped  her  —  I  —  I  helped  her  get  away," 
he  said. 

"Yes,  and  she  will  never  forget  it,  and 
neither  will  I." 

"You  —  you  —  asked  me  if  I  loved  her," 
said  Pete,  his  mind  returning  to  the  day  of 
the  motor-cycle  visit. 

"Yes,  and  you  did,  did  n't  you?" 

"Yes,  and  —  and  when  she  was  gone  up 
to  —  to  heaven,  I  wanted  to  die  till  I  — 
I  remembered  that  she  —  she  wanted  to 

go." 

"Yes,  wanted  to  go  just  as  much  as  you 
did,  and  more.  Now  that  life  is  all  over, 
Pete.  Just  as  much  gone  as  those  old 
clothes  of  yours  that  we  left  to  be  burned. 
You  Ve  been  a  faithful,  brave  boy,  and 

241 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Miss  Melody  and  I  are  going  to  look  after 
you  henceforth." 

Pete  could  n't  speak.  Ben  saw  him  bite 
his  lip  to  control  himself.  The  roadster 
started  and  moving  slowly  out  of  the  town 
sped  again  along  a  country  road. 


242 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  GODDESS 

ON  the  same  day  Geraldine  and  Miss  Up 
ton  were  patronizing  the  department  stores 
in  the  city  and  getting  such  clothing  as  was 
absolutely  necessary  for  the  girl.  Ger- 
aldine's  purchases  were  rigidly  simple. 

"I  think  you're  downright  stingy,  child," 
commented  Miss  Upton  when  the  girl  had 
overruled  certain  suggestions  Miss  Mehit- 
able  had  made  with  the  fear  of  Ben  Barry 
before  her  eyes. 

"No,  indeed.  Don't  you  see  how  it's 
counting  up?"  rejoined  Geraldine  earnestly. 
"All  these  things  on  your  bill,  and  no  telling 
how  soon  I  can  pay  for  them." 

Miss  Upton  noticed  how  the  salesgirls  ap 
preciated  the  beauty  they  had  to  deal  with, 
and  she  was  in  sympathy  with  their  efforts 
to  dress  Geraldine  as  she  deserved. 

There  were  some  shops  into  which  the 
girl  refused  to  enter,  and  it  was  plain  to  her 
companion  that  these  had  been  the  scenes 
of  some  of  her  repulsive  experiences. 

243 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Also  they  shunned  the  restaurant  where 
they  had  met;  and  every  minute  that  they 
were  on  the  street  Geraldine  held  tight  to 
Miss  Upton's  substantial  arm. 

"I  shall  be  so  glad  when  we  get  home," 
she  said  repeatedly. 

"Now,  look  here,"  said  Miss  Upton, 
"there's  one  thing  you've  got  to  accept 
from  me  as  a  present.  You  're  my  little  girl 
and  I've  a  right  to  give  you  one  thing,  I 
hope." 

"I'd  much  rather  you  wouldn't,"  re 
turned  Geraldine  anxiously — "not  until 
I've  paid  for  these." 

She  had  changed  the  white  dress  she  wore 
into  town  for  a  dark-blue  skirt  and  jacket 
which  formed  the  chief  item  of  her  purchases, 
and  on  her  head  she  had  a  black  sailor  hat 
which  Miss  Upton  had  procured  in  Keefe. 

"I  want  to  give  you,"  said  Miss  Upton  — 
"I  want  to  give  you  a  —  a  droopy  hat!" 

Geraldine  laughed.  "What  in  the  world 
for,  you  dear?  What  do  I  need  of  droopy 
hats?" 

"To  wear  with  your  light  things  —  your 
white  dress,  and  —  and  everything." 

"Miss  Upton,  how  absurd!  I  don't  need 
244 


THE   GODDESS 


it  at  all.     Don't  think  of  such  a  thing.     I 
shan't  go  anywhere." 

"I  don't  believe  you  know  what  you'll 
do,"  returned  Miss  Mehitable.  "Just  come 
and  try  one  on,  anyway.  I  want  to  see  you 


in  it.': 


So,  coaxing,  while  the  girl  demurred,  she 
led  her  to  the  millinery  section  of  the  store 
they  were  in.  Of  course,  putting  hats  on 
Geraldine  was  a  very  fascinating  game,  which 
everybody  enjoyed  except  the  girl  herself. 
There  was  one  hat  especially  in  which  Miss 
Upton  reveled,  mentally  considering  its  de 
vastating  effect  upon  Ben  Barry.  It  was 
very  simple,  and  at  the  most  depressed  point 
of  the  brim  nestled  one  soft,  loose-leaved 
pink  rose  with  a  little  foliage.  Miss  Upton's 
eyes  glistened  and  she  drew  the  saleslady 
aside. 

"I've  bought  it,"  she  said  triumphantly 
when  she  came  back. 

"It  is  n't  right,"  replied  Geraldine,  al 
though  it  must  be  admitted  that  she  her 
self  had  thought  of  Ben  when  she  first  saw 
the  reflection  of  it  in  the  glass. 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  have  any  fun?" 
returned  Miss  Mehitable,  quite  excited,  for 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

the  price  of  the  hat  caused  the  matter  to  be 
portentous. 

"Let  him  pay  for  it,"  she  considered 
recklessly.  "What's  the  harm  as  long  as 
he  and  I  are  the  only  ones  who  know  it,  and 
wild  horses  could  n't  drag  it  out  of  me?" 

So,  Geraldine  carrying  the  large  hat-box, 
they  at  last  pursued  their  way  to  the  rail 
way  station  and  with  mutual  sighs  of  relief 
stowed  themselves  into  the  train  for  Keefe. 

"What  you  thinkin*  about,  child?"  de 
manded  Miss  Mehitable  after  a  long  period 
of  silence. 

Geraldine  met  her  regard  wistfully.  "I 
was  wondering  if  anybody  is  ever  perfectly 
happy.  Is  n't  there  always  some  drawback, 
some  'if  that  has  to  be  met?" 

"Was  you  thinkin'  about  Mrs.  Barry, 
Geraldine?  I'm  sorry  she  had  one  o'  her 
haughty  spells  that  day — " 

"No,  I  was  not  thinking  of  her;  it  is  Mr. 
Barry  —  Ben.  He  went  on  a  very  dangerous 
errand  yesterday." 

"You  don't  say  so!  Why,  he  came  in  as 
gay  as  a  lark  with  those  apple  blossoms  and 
he  went  out  to  his  machine  whistlin'.  He 
could  n't  have  had  much  on  his  mind.  You 

246 


THE   GODDESS 


know  I  told  you  yesterday  he's  as  sensible 
as  he  is  brave." 

"What  good  is  bravery  against  a  madman 
with  a  gun  —  still  he  promised,  he  promised 
me  he  would  not  go  to  the  farm  alone." 

"Then  he'll  abide  by  it.  You  do  give  me 
a  turn,  Geraldine,  talkin'  about  madmen 
and  guns." 

The  girl  sighed. 

"I  haven't  had  anything  but  'turns' 
ever  since  I  first  saw  the  Carder  farm;  but 
it  is  unkind  to  draw  you  into  it.  Some 
times  I  wish  I  had  never  mentioned  Pete  to 
Mr.  Barry,  yet  it  seems  disloyal  to  leave  the 
boy  there  when  I  owe  him  so  much." 

And  then  Geraldine  told  her  friend  in  de 
tail  the  part  the  dwarf  had  played  in  her 
life. 

Mrs.  Barry  was,  of  course,  able  to  think 
of  little  else  than  the  new  element  which  had 
come  so  suddenly  into  her  calm,  well- 
ordered  life.  She  shrank  fastidiously  from 
anything  undignified,  and  she  felt  that 
through  no  fault  of  her  own  she  was  now  in 
an  undignified  position.  In  her  son's  eyes 
she  was  a  culprit.  Even  her  humble  friend, 

247 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Mehitable  Upton,  had  revealed  plainly  an 
indignation  at  her  attitude.  When  Ben  left 
yesterday  telling  her  that  he  might  be  gone 
several  days,  without  explaining  why  or 
where,  she  felt  the  barrier  between  them 
even  while  he  kissed  her  good-bye.  He  had 
made  a  vigorous  declaration  of  independence 
that  night  at  dinner,  and  now  he  had  gone 
away  to  let  her  think  it  over,  not  even 
noticing  that  her  eyes  were  heavy  from  a 
sleepless  night. 

All  that  day,  as  she  moved  about  her  cus 
tomary  occupations,  the  thought  of  Ger- 
aldine  haunted  her;  the  way  the  girl  had 
avoided  her  eyes  after  their  first  encounter, 
how  she  had  clung  to  Miss  Upton,  and  how 
eagerly  she  had  urged  departure. 

"So  silly,"  thought  Mrs.  Barry  while  she 
fed  her  pigeons.  "How  absurd  of  her  to 
expect  anything  different  from  a  civil  re 
ception." 

Side  by  side  with  this  condemnation, 
however,  ran  the  consideration  of  how  Ben 
had  probably  flung  himself  at  her  feet  so 
far  as  the  Scout  plane  would  allow,  and  how 
he  had  even  urged  immediate  matrimony. 
That  hurt  too  much!  Mrs.  Barry  saw  the 

248 


THE   GODDESS 


pigeons  through  a  veil  of  quick  tears.  One 
more  night  she  slept  or  waked  over  the 
problem,  and  as  her  thought  adjusted  itself 
more  to  Geraldine,  the  practical  side  of  the 
girl's  situation  unfolded  to  her  considera 
tion.  There  would  seem  to  be  no  question 
of  returning  to  the  irate  farmer  to  get  her 
clothing,  yet  that  might  be  the  very  thing 
Ben  was  doing  now;  risking  his  precious  life 
again  for  this  stranger  who  was  nothing  to 
them.  The  more  Mrs.  Barry  thought  about 
it,  the  more  restless  she  became.  At  last 
there  was  no  question  any  longer  but  that 
her  only  peace  lay  in  going  to  Miss  Melody. 
After  all,  it  was  merely  courteous  to  inquire 
how  the  girl  had  borne  the  excitement  of 
her  escape;  but  in  the  back  of  Mrs.  Barry's 
mind  was  the  hope  that  she  might  discover 
where  her  boy  had  gone  now. 

She  made  a  hasty  toilet,  jumped  into 
her  electric,  and  drove  to  Upton's  Fancy 
Goods  and  Notions.  The  shades  were 
drawn.  The  taking-account-of-stock  notice 
was  still  on  the  door  which  resisted  all  effort 
to  open  it. 

Knocking  availed  nothing.  Mrs.  Barry's 
lips  took  a  line  of  firmness  equal  to  her  son's. 

249 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Walking  around  to  the  back  door,  she  found 
it  open  and  entered  the  kitchen.  It  was 
empty. 

She  moved  through  the  house  into  the 
shop.  There  was  Mrs.  Whipp,  her  head 
tied  up  in  a  handkerchief,  bending  over  a 
packing-box.  She  started  at  a  sound,  raised 
her  head,  and  stood  amazed  at  the  visitor's 
identity. 

"I  knocked,  but  you  did  n't  seem  to  hear 
me,"  said  Mrs.  Barry  with  dignity. 

"Yes'm,  I  did  hear  a  knock,"  returned 
Charlotte,  "but  they  pound  there  all  day, 
and  o'  course  I  did  n't  know  't  was  you.  I 
tell  Miss  Upton  if  we  kept  the  door  locked 
and  the  shades  down  all  the  time,  we  'd  do 
a  drivin'  business.  Folks  seem  jest  pos 
sessed  to  come  in  and  buy  somethin'  'cause 
they  can't.  Did  you  want  somethin'  special, 
Mrs.  Barry?" 

"I  came  to  see  Miss  Melody.  I  wished  to 
inquire  if  she  has  recovered  from  her  ex 
citement." 

A  softened  expression  stole  over  Char 
lotte's  weazened  face. 

"She  ain't  here.  They've  gone  to  the 
city." 

250 


THE  GODDESS 


"Who  —  who  did  you  say  has  gone?" 

Mrs.  Barry  controlled  her  own  start. 
Visions  of  two  in  that  roadster  swept  over 
her.  Perhaps,  she  herself  having  forfeited 
her  right  to  consideration  —  there  was  no 
telling  what  might  have  happened  by  this 
time.  Mrs.  Whipp's  smile  was  frightfully 
complacent. 

"Miss  Upton  and  her  went  together," 
was  the  reply.  "Of  course,  all  the  girl's 
clo'es  was  in  the  den  o'  that  fiend  she  got 
away  from,  and  she  had  to  git  some  more." 

Mrs.  Barry  breathed  freer. 

"Miss  Upton  cal'lated  to  get  some  things 
from  her  customers  and  fix  'em  over,  but 
Mr.  Barry,  he  would  n't  have  it  so." 

"Are  you  referring  to  my  son?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Upton  said  he  turned  up  his 
nose  at  hand-me-downs,  so  she  had  to  jest 
brace  up  and  git  'em  new." 

Mrs.  Whipp's  eyes  seemed  to  see  far 
away  and  her  expression  under  the  pro 
tecting  towel  was  one  quite  novel. 

Mrs.  Barry  cleared  her  throat. 

"My  son  was  here,  then,  before  he  went 
away  on  his  —  his  little  trip. " 

"Yes,"    replied    Mrs.   Whipp,    appearing 

251 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

to  perceive  Dan  Cupid  over  her  visitor's 
shoulder.  "He  come  in  to  bring  the  apple 
blossoms  and  ask  how  Geraldine  was,  and 
that  night  sech  a  box  o'  candy  as  he  sent 
her!  You'd  ought  to  'a'  seen  it,  Mis'  Barry. 
P'r'aps  you  did  see  it."  Charlotte  met  the 
lady's  steady  eyes  eagerly. 

"No,  I  did  not  see  it." 

"Well,  that  poor  little  girl  she  could  n't 
half  enjoy  them  bon-bons,  'cause  she  was 
so  scared  somethin'  was  goin'  to  happen  to 
Mr.  Barry." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  she  was  afraid  he  'd  gone  back  to 
that  farm  where  they  murder  folks  as  quick 
as  look  at  'em."  Charlotte  sniffed  a  sniff  of 
excited  enjoyment. 

"What  would  he  go  there  for?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Barry.  "Surely  not  to  get  those 
foolish  clothes!" 

"I  don't  know.  I  only  know  Geraldine 
cried.  Miss  Upton  said  so;  but  she  told  her 
how  Mr.  Barry  was  jest  as  smart  as  he  was 
brave  and  she  took  her  to  the  city  to  git  her 
mind  off." 

Charlotte  smiled  with  as  soft  an  expres 
sion  as  the  unaccustomed  lips  could  reveal, 

252 


THE   GODDESS 


and  nothing  but  stamping  her  aristocratic 
foot  could  have  expressed  Mrs.  Barry's 
exasperation. 

"I  am  quite  sure  my  son  would  not  take 
any  absurd  and  unnecessary  step,"  she  said, 
with  such  hauteur  that  Mrs.  Whipp  came 
out  of  her  day-dream  and  realized  that  the 
great  lady's  eyes  were  flashing.  Without 
another  word  the  visitor  turned  and  left 
the  shop,  her  black  and  violet  cape  sweeping 
through  living-room  and  kitchen  and  back 
into  her  machine. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  spent  by  the 
lady  in  alternations  of  scorn,  vexation,  and 
anxiety. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  she  heard  a  motor 
enter  the  grounds,  and  hurrying  to  the 
door  saw  with  a  happy  leap  of  the  heart 
that  it  was  Ben's  roadster.  Her  relief  drove 
her  to  forgive  and  forget  and  to  hurry  out 
to  the  piazza.  The  machine  came  on  and 
she  saw  that  her  son  was  not  alone.  A  boy 
sat  beside  him. 

The  roadster  stopped.  Ben  jumped  out 
and  kissed  his  mother,  then  beckoned  to 
Pete,  who  obediently  drew  near  and  stood 
on  his  curved  legs,  his  hat  in  his  hand.  He 

253 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

looked  up  at  the  queenly  lady,  and  his  eyes 
which  had  ceased  to  wonder  were  still 
seeking. 

"Is  she  here,  Master?"  he  asked. 

"No,  but  near  by,"  replied  Ben. 

"Mother,  I've  engaged  a  new  boy.  His 
name  is  Pete.  He  is  here  for  general  utility. 
He  is  very  willing." 

Mrs.  Barry  gazed  in  disapproval  at  the 
quaint,  clean  figure  in  his  brand-new  clothes. 
Pete's  rough  hands  constantly  twirled  his 
straw  hat. 

"You  should  have  asked  me,"  she  said. 
"We  don't  need  any  more  help." 

Ben  put  his  arm  around  her  and  drew  her 
close  to  him.  "Yes,  we  do,"  he  replied 
cheerfully,  "down  at  Keefeport.  Pete  will 
go  there  and  keep  things  in  shape.  You 
will  wonder  how  you  ever  got  along  with 
out  him;  but  I  need  him  first.  He  was  one 
of  the  hands  at  the  Carder  farm  —  has  been 
there  from  a  child  and  he  knows  more  about 
his  master's  devilment  than  anybody  else." 

"Ben!"  His  mother  looked  up  reproach 
fully  into  the  young  fellow's  happy  eyes. 
"Why  did  you  need  to  risk  your  life 
again  — " 

254 


THE  GODDESS 


"Oh,  not  a  bit  of  that,"  laughed  Ben. 
"I  picked  Pete  out  of  a  grocery  store  — " 

"Where  is  she,  Master?"  The  voice  of 
the  boy  was  pleading  again. 

"Pete  was  a  good  friend  to  Miss  Melody, 
the  only  one  she  had,  and  now  his  reward  is 
going  to  be  to  see  her." 

"You  don't  mean,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Barry, 
"that  you  have  spent  a  couple  of  days  to 
get  this  boy  and  dress  him  up  in  order  to 
allow  him  to  see  Miss  Melody?" 

"No,  not  exactly.  I  kidnapped  him  as 
an  information  bureau." 

"Why  can't  you  let  that  disgusting  farmer 
alone?"  asked  the  lady  despairingly. 

"Because  if  I  do,  he  won't  let  us  alone," 
returned  Ben  shortly.  "Well,  now,  we've 
shown  ourselves  to  you  and  we  '11  be  off  to 
keep  my  word  to  Pete.  Hop  in,  boy." 

Miss  Upton  and  Geraldine  had  reached 
home,  hatbox  and  all,  and  were  in  the  dis 
mantled  shop  answering  Charlotte's  ques 
tions  when  they  heard  an  automobile  stop 
before  the  door  and  a  cheery  whistle  sounded. 
The  repellent  shades  were  still  down  at  the 
windows. 

255 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"That's  Ben  Barry!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Mehitable.  "Don't  you  dare  to  touch  that 
hat!"  she  added  severely  to  Geraldine, 
whose  cheeks  flushed  deeply  as  a  tattoo 
began  on  the  locked  door. 

So  the  girl  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  wearing  the  droopy  hat  when  Ben 
came  in,  followed  by  the  dwarf  at  whom 
Miss  Mehitable  and  Charlotte  stared. 

Geraldine  forgot  her  hat,  and  Ben  Barry 
— forgot  everything  but  the  eager  adoration 
in  the  face  of  the  transformed  slave.  "Why, 
Pete,  Pete!"  she  cried  joyously,  running  to 
meet  him. 

The  boy  bit  his  lips  to  keep  back  the 
tears  and  his  clumsy  fingers  worked  nerv 
ously  as  his  goddess  rested  both  her  hands 
on  his  shoulders.  He  could  n't  speak,  but 
gazed  and  gazed  up  into  the  eyes  under  the 
droopy  hat. 

Ben  Barry,  his  arms  folded,  looked  on  at 
the  tableau  while  Geraldine  murmured  wel 
come  and  reassurance. 

"Are  n't  we  the  happiest  people  in  the 
world,  Pete?"  she  finished  softly. 

He  choked.  "Yes,  and  I'm  not  going 
back,"  he  was  able  to  say  at  last. 

256 


THE  GODDESS 


"I  should  say  not,"  put  in  Ben.  "I've 
brought  somebody  to  help  you  move,  Mehit," 
he  added.  Miss  Upton  was  still  staring  at 
the  dwarf's  legs. 

"That's  fine,"  said  Geraldine.  "Pete  is 
just  the  right  one  for  us." 

The  boy  kept  his  eyes  on  hers. 

"He  can't  ever  get  you  again,"  he  said, 
with  trembling  eagerness,  "'cause  I  know 
all  about  the  girls  he  had  there  before  you, 
and  how  one  jumped  out  the  winder,  and  I 
know  what  hospital  they  took  her  to,  for  I 
drove,  and  I'm  goin'  there  with  Mr.  Barry, 
and  he's  goin'  to  —  " 

"Never  mind,  Pete,"  interrupted  Ben 
quietly.  "We're  going  to  take  care  of  that 
without  troubling  Miss  Melody." 

The  dwarf  dropped  back  as  Ben  advanced. 
Charlotte  said  afterward  that  it  gave  her  a 
turn  to  see  the  manner  in  which  the  young 
man  took  both  the  girl's  hands  and  scanned 
her  changed  appearance. 

"It  looks  perfectly  absurd  with  this 
tailor  suit,"  she  said,  blushing  and  laughing. 
"Miss  Upton  would  give  it  to  me.  So  ex 
travagant!" 

The  elaborate  wink  which  Miss  Mehitable 
257 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

bestowed  on  Ben  as  he  glanced  at  her  over 
his  love's  head  was  intended  to  warn  him 
that  he  had  a  bill  to  pay. 

"Miss  Upton  has  been  your  good  fairy  all 
along,  has  n't  she?"  His  look  was  so  in 
tense  and  he  spoke  so  seriously  that  Ger- 
aldine  glanced  up  at  him  half  timidly  and 
down  again. 

Charlotte  pulled  Miss  Upton's  dress  and 
motioned  with  her  head  toward  the  living- 
room;  but,  as  Miss  Mehitable  said  after 
ward,  "What  was  the  good  of  their  goin' 
and  leavin'  that  critter  there?" 

"Thank  you  for  the  candy,  Mr.  Barry," 
said  Geraldine,  meeting  his  eyes  again 
steadily,  "but  please  don't.  You  have  put 
me  under  everlasting  obligation,  but  will 
you  do  me  one  more  favor?  Will  you  let 
me  help  these  dear  women  and  —  and  stay 
away,  and  —  don't  send  me  anything?" 

Miss  Mehitable  understood  this  prayer, 
and  she  had  a  qualm  as  she  thought  of  the 
price  of  the  bewitching  hat  which  was  at 
the  present  moment  doing  its  worst. 

"Yes,  for  a  little  while,"  replied  Ben. 
"Pete  will  get  you  moved  and  settled  at  the 
Port  and  then  he  and  I  will  take  a  trip.  I 

258 


THE   GODDESS 


don't  know  how  long  we  shall  be  away;  but 
when  we  return  you  will  understand  that 
the  ogre's  teeth  have  been  extracted,  the 
tiger's  claws  cut,  and  the  spider's  web  rent. 
How's  that?"  He  smiled  down  into  the 
girl's  grave  eyes,  still  holding  her  hands 
close. 

"If  I  could  only  find  out  what  my  father's 
debt  to  him  really  is,  I  would  consecrate  my 
life  to  paying  it,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

Miss  Mehitable  felt  that  the  atmosphere 
was  getting  very  warm. 

"Come  here,  Pete,"  she  said.  "I  want  to 
show  you  my  kitchen."  The  dwarf  walked 
slowly  backward  to  the  door,  his  eyes  on 
the  young  couple,  as  if  he  feared  to  let  them 
out  of  his  sight  lest  they  vanish  and  he 
waken.  "Come  on,  Charlotte." 

The  three  disappeared,  Miss  Mehitable 
urging  Pete  by  the  shoulder. 

"I'll  try  to  find  out,"  returned  Ben; 
"and  if  it  is  possible  to  do  that,  the  debt 
shall  be  paid." 

Geraldine  caught  her  lip  under  her  teeth 
and  swallowed  the  rising  lump. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Barry  —  Ben,"  she  said  at  last, 
"of  course  I  have  no  words  to  thank  you  —  " 
259 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"I  don't  wish  to  be  thanked  in  words." 

"You're  too  generous." 

"Not  in  the  least,"  returned  Ben  quietly. 
"I  want  to  be  thanked.  I  want  each  of  us 
to  thank  the  other  all  our  lives.  I  to  be 
grateful  to  you  for  existing,  and  you  to 
thank  me  for  spending  my  days  with  the 
paramount  thought  of  your  happiness." 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  a  long  silent 
minute. 

"Mrs.  Whipp  says  your  mother  came  to 
call  on  me  to-day,"  said  Geraldine  at  last. 
"She  described  her  manner  so  well  that  it  is 
evident  she  came  at  the  point  of  your 
bayonet.  I  understand  the  situation  en 
tirely.  I've  already  heard  that  she  is  the 
great  lady  of  the  town.  You  are  her  only 
son.  Do  you  suppose  I  blame  her  when  out 
of  a  clear  sky  you  produced  me  and  made 
your  feeling  plain  to  her?  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  she  made  hers  plain  to  me?  I  should 
think"  —  Geraldine  gave  an  appealing  pres 
sure  to  the  hands  holding  hers  —  "I  should 
think  you  could  be  generous  enough  to  —  to 
let  me  alone." 

Her  eyes  pleaded  with  him  seriously. 

"What  am  I  doing?"  asked  Ben.  "What 
260 


THE   GODDESS 


do  you  suppose  is  the  reason  that  I  'm  wast 
ing  all  these  minutes  when  I  might  be  hold 
ing  you  in  my  arms!"  He  had  to  stop  here 
himself  and  swallow  manfully.  "If  you 
knew  how  you  look  at  this  moment  —  and 
I  don't  kiss  you  —  just  because  I'm  giving 
Mother  a  little  time,  so  that  you  will  be 
satisfied  —  " 

"Then  you  '11  promise  —  will  you  promise 

—  you  kept  your  promise  about  the  farm?" 
"Yes;  I  found  Pete  in  the  village." 
"Then  you  do  keep  promises!     Tell  me 

solemnly  that  you  will  leave  your  mother  in 
freedom.  If  you  don't,  Ben  —  Sir  Galahad 

—  I'll  run  away.     I  really  will  —  " 

In  her  earnestness  she  lifted  her  face 
toward  his,  her  eyes  were  irresistible,  and  in 
an  instant  he  had  swept  her  into  his  arms 
and  was  kissing  her  tenderly,  fervently,  to 
the  utter  undoing  of  the  droopy  hat  which 
fell  unnoticed  to  the  floor. 

Voices  approaching  made  him  release  her. 

Very  flushed,  very  grave,  both  of  them, 
they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  and 
Geraldine,  being  a  woman,  put  both  hands 
up  to  her  ruffled  hair. 

"I  do  promise  you,  Geraldine,"  he  said, 
261 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

low  and  earnestly.  "Whatever  my  mother 
does  after  this  you  may  know  is  of  her  own 
volition." 

Pete  burst  into  the  room  wild-eyed,  fol 
lowed  by  Miss  Mehitable,  who  was  talking 
and  laughing. 

"He  was  afraid  you'd  go  away  without 
him,"  she  said  —  "Mercy's  sakes,  Geraldine 
Melody,  look  at  your  hat!"  She  darted 
upon  it  and  snapped  some  dust  off  its  chiffon. 
"You'd  better  be  careful  how  you  throw 
this  around.  We  can't  buy  a  hat  like  this 
every  day." 

"Oh,  do  forgive  me,  Miss  Upton!"  mur 
mured  the  girl,  her  eyes  very  bright.  "It 
was  her  present  to  me,"  she  added  to  Ben. 
"I'm  so  sorry!"  She  went  to  Miss  Me 
hitable  and  laid  her  cheek  against  hers,  and 
Miss  Upton  bestowed  another  prodigious 
wink  upon  the  purchaser  of  the  hat. 

It  did  not  break  his  gravity;  a  gravity 
which  Miss  Upton  but  just  now  noticed. 

"Come,  Pete,  we'll  be  going,"  said  Ben, 
and  his  flushed,  serious  face  worried  Miss 
Mehitable's  kind  heart,  especially  as  no 
sign  of  his  merry  carelessness  returned  in 
his  brief  leave-taking. 

262 


THE   GODDESS 


When  they  were  gone  and  the  door  had 
closed  after  them,  she  looked  at  the  girl 
accusingly. 

"Something  has  happened,"  she  said,  in 
a  low  tone  not  to  attract  Charlotte. 

"Don't  be  cross  with  me  about  the  hat," 
said  the  girl,  nestling  up  close  to  her  again. 
"I  just  love  it  —  much  better  even  than  I 
did  in  the  store." 

Miss  Mehitable  put  an  arm  around  her, 
not  because  at  the  moment  she  loved  her, 
but  because  she  was  there. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  "if  there's  any 
thing  in  this  world  that  can  make  anything 
but  a  fool  out  of  a  girl  before  it's  too  late. 
I  know  you're  just  as  crazy  about  him  as 
he  is  about  you !  If  you  was  n't,  would  you 
have  been  snivellin'  around  because  he 
might  get  hurt  to  the  farm?  And  yet  jest 
'cause  o'  your  silly,  foolish  pride  you've 
gone  and  refused  him.  It's  as  plain  as  the 
nose  on  his  splendid  face.  As  if  in  the  long 
run  it  mattered  if  Mrs.  Barry  was  a  little 
cantankerous.  She's  run  everything  around 
here  so  long  that  she  forgets  her  boy's  a 
man  with  a  mind  of  his  own.  It's  awful 
narrow  of  you,  Geraldine,  awful  narrow!" 

263 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Upon  this  the  girl  lifted  her  head  and 
smiled  faintly  into  the  accusing  face. 

"Won't  it  be  nice  to  have  Pete  help  us 
move,"  she  said  innocently. 

Miss  Upton's  lips  tightened.  She  dropped 
her  arm,  moved  away,  and  put  the  droopy 
hat  back  in  its  box. 

"You're  heartless!"  she  exclaimed.  There 
was  such  a  peachy  bloom  on  the  girl's  face. 
"I  won't  waste  my  breath." 

"I  love  you"  said  Geraldine,  meekly  and 
defensively. 

"Ho!"  snorted  her  good  fairy,  unap- 
peased. 


264 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  MERMAID  SHOP 

FOR  the  next  few  days  Miss  Mehitable  had 
no  time  to  worry  over  love-affairs.  No 
matter  how  early  she  arose  in  the  morning 
she  found  Pete  arrayed  in  overalls  sitting 
on  the  stone  step  of  Upton's  Fancy  Goods 
and  Notions,  and  when  by  the  evening  of 
the  third  day  all  her  goods,  wares,  and 
chattels  were  deposited  in  the  little  shop  at 
Keefeport,  she  wondered  how  she  had  ever 
got  on  without  him. 

On  that  very  day  Ben  Barry  received  a 
threatening  letter  from  Rufus  Carder  de 
manding  the  return  of  Pete,  and  he  knew 
that  no  more  time  must  be  lost.  He  flew 
over  to  the  Port  that  afternoon,  and  alight 
ing  on  the  landing-field  which  had  been  pre 
pared  near  his  cottage  walked  to  the  little 
shop  near  the  wharf.  Here  he  found  Pete 
industriously  obeying  Miss  Upton's  orders 
in  company  with  his  idol,  the  whole  quartet 
gay  amid  their  chaos.  Even  Mrs.  Whipp 

265 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

had  postponed  the  fear  of  rheumatism  and 
had  learned  how  to  laugh. 

They  had  formed  a  line  and  were  passing 
the  articles  from  boxes  to  shelves  when  the 
leather-coated,  helmeted  figure  stood  sud 
denly  before  them. 

The  effect  of  the  apparition  upon  Ger- 
aldine  with  its  associations  was  so  extreme 
as  to  make  her  feel  faint  for  a  minute,  and 
Ben  saw  her  face  change  as  she  leaned 
against  the  counter. 

Miss  Mehitable  saw  it  too.  "Aha!"  she 
thought  triumphantly.  "Aha!  It  isn't  so 
funny  to  break  a  body's  heart,  after  all." 

"Well,  Ben  Barry,"  she  said  aloud,  "why 
did  n't  you  wait  till  we  got  settled?" 

The  aviator  stood  in  the  doorway,  but 
came  no  farther. 

"Because  I  have  to  take  Pete  away. 
I've  had  a  billet  doux  from  Rufus  Carder 
and  he  wants  him." 

The  dwarf  rushed  to  his  new  master  on 
quaking  legs.  "Oh,  Master!  I  won't  go! 
I  can't  go."  He  looked  off  wildly  on  the  big 
billows  rolling  in.  "I'll  throw  myself  in 
the  sea." 

Ben  put  a  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder. 
266 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


"Of  course  you  won't  go,"  he  said;  "but  you 
want  to  brighten  up  your  wits  now  and  re 
member  everything  that  will  help  us.  We're 
going  to  the  city  to-night  and  begin  at  once 
to  settle  that  gentleman's  affairs."  He  gave 
Geraldine  a  reassuring  look.  "I  should  like 
to  take  your  father's  letter  with  me,"  he 
added  quietly. 

"But  we  must  n't  get  Pete  into  trouble," 
she  replied  doubtfully. 

"I'm  not  intending  to  show  it.  I  want  to 
familiarize  myself  with  his  handwriting.  I 
expect  to  have  an  interview  and  perhaps 
there  will  be  notes  to  examine." 

"But  not  at  the  farm,"  protested  the  girl 
quickly.  "You'll  not  go  near  the  meadow?" 

"No;  the  cows  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
us  this  time." 

"And  you'll"  —  Geraldine  swallowed  — 
"you '11  be  careful?" 

Ben  nodded.  "All  my  promises  hold," 
he  replied,  looking  straight  into  her  eyes 
with  only  the  ghost  of  his  old  smile,  as  Miss 
Upton  noticed. 

Geraldine  ran  upstairs,  brought  down  her 
father's  letter,  and  gave  it  to  him. 

He  took  it  with  a  nod  of  thanks.  "How  do 
267 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

you  think  you  will  like  to  fly,  Pete?"  he 
asked.  "You  can  go  home  with  me,  or,  if 
you  prefer  it,  in  the  trolley." 

"Anywhere  with  you,  Master,"  returned  the 
boy.  He  felt  certain  that  Rufus  Carder  would 
not  be  met  among  the  clouds,  but  who  could  be 
sure  that  he  would  not  pop  up  in  a  trolley  car. 

"Very  well,  then.  Good-bye,  everybody, 
and  expect  us  when  you  see  us." 

"Good-bye,  you  dear  boy,"  cried  Miss 
Mehitable.  Somebody  should  call  him 
"dear."  She  was  determined  on  that. 
"Always  workin'  for  others,"  she  con 
tinued  loudly,  "and  riskin'  your  life  the 
way  you  are."  She  moved  to  the  door,  and 
raised  her  voice  still  higher  as  the  strangely 
assorted  pair  moved  away  up  the  road.  "I 
hope  you'll  get  your  reward  sometime!" 
she  shouted;  then  she  turned  back  and 
glared  at  Geraldine. 

The  girl  put  her  hand  on  her  heart.  "It 
startled  me  so  to  see  him  —  just  as  he 
looked  on  that  —  that — dreadful  day,"  she 
was  going  to  say,  but  how  could  she  so  char 
acterize  the  day  of  her  full  joy  and  wonder? 
So  her  voice  died  to  silence,  and  Miss  Upton 
began  slamming  articles  up  on  the  shelves 

268 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


with  unnecessary  violence,  while  Geraldine, 
smiling  into  the  packing-boxes,  meekly  set 
about  helping  her. 

Pete,  like  Geraldine  before  him,  was  in 
such  terror  of  his  former  master  and  so  full 
of  trust  in  his  present  one,  that  he  swal 
lowed  his  fears  as  the  plane  rose  for  its  short 
trip,  and  he  found  the  experience  enjoyable. 
Ben,  when  they  reached  the  house,  sought 
his  mother.  She  was  walking  on  the  piazza. 

"You  did  n't  tell  me  you  were  off  for  a 
flight,"  she  said  in  an  annoyed  tone. 

"Well,  it  was  now  you  see  me  and  now 
you  don't  this  time,  was  n't  it?  You  had 
hardly  time  to  miss  me.  I  flew  over  to  the 
Port  to  get  Pete.  We  have  to  go  to  the  city 
to-night.  I'll  be  gone  a  few  days,  Mother, 
perhaps  a  week." 

"On  some  disgusting  business  connected 
with  that  unspeakable  man,  I  suppose." 

"Verily  I  believe  it  will  be  very  disgust 
ing;  but  it  has  to  be  gone  through  with." 

"Why  does  it?"  His  mother  stood  before 
him  and  spoke  desperately.  "Why  can't 
you  let  it  alone?" 

"I've  told  you  —  because  it  affects  the 
happiness  of  my  future  wife." 

269 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Mrs.  Barry's  eyes  were  hard,  though  her 
cheeks  grew  crimson.  "You  have  n't  an 
nounced  your  engagement  to  me.  Don't 
you  think  I  should  be  one  of  the  first  to 
know?"  she  said. 

"I'm  not  engaged."  Ben  smiled  into  her 
angry,  hurt  eyes.  "Something  stands  in 
the  way  as  yet." 

"What?" 

"Can't  you  guess?" 

They  continued  to  exchange  a  steady 
gaze.  She  spoke  first. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  anyone  con 
cerned  in  the  affair  still  considers  me?" 

Her  boy's  smile  became  a  laugh  at  the  de 
liberate  manner  of  her  sarcasm. 

"Oh,  cut  it  out,  Mother  mine,"  he  said. 
And  though  she  tried  to  hold  stiffly  away 
from  him,  he  hugged  her  and  kissed  her  and 
pulled  her  down  beside  him  on  a  wicker  seat. 

She  could  not  get  away  from  his  encircling 
arm  and  probably  she  did  not  wish  to. 

"Ben,  I've  had  a  most  disagreeable  day," 
she  declared.  "Everybody  within  fifteen 
miles  knows  that  you  flew  into  the  village 
with  a  strange  girl." 

"They  said  she  was  pretty,  did  n't  they?" 
270 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


"I  can't  leave  the  house  without  some 
body  stopping  me  and  asking  me  about  it, 
and  I'll  have  to  order  the  telephone  taken 
out  if  this  goes  on.  I  can  hardly  bear  to  an 
swer  it  any  more.  I  called  on  Miss  Melody, 
but  she  had  gone  to  town,  and  that  hopeless 
Mrs.  Whipp  babbled  about  your  atten 
tions.  I  don't  want  you  to  break  the  apple 
blossoms  anyway." 

"All  right,  honey,  I  won't.  They're 
nearly  gone;  but  I  shall  always  love  apple 
blossoms.  They're  fragrant  like  her  spirit, 
pink  and  white  like  her,  wholesome  like  her, 
modest  like  her.  You  see  she  has  always 
been  kept  in  the  background.  No  one 
has  taken  the  bloom  from  her  freshness. 
She  has  had  blows,  has  come  in  contact 
with  some  of  the  world's  mud,  but  it 
washed  away  and  disappeared  under  her 
own  purity." 

Mrs.  Barry  looked  into  the  speaker's 
flashing  eyes.  "My  poor  boy,"  she  said  at 
last.  "I  wonder  whether  you're  crazy  or 
whether  you're  right.  What  am  I  going 
to  do!" 

"Of  course  I  don't  know  what  you're 
going  to  do,"  he  returned,  his  lips  and  voice 

271 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

suddenly  serious.  "It  depends  largely  upon 
whether  you  want  my  future  wife  to  hand 
out  ice-cream  cones  to  the  trippers  at 
Keefeport." 

"What  do  you  mean  now?"  Mrs.  Barry 
asked  it  severely. 

"Why,  the  little  girl  is  going  to  try  to 
earn  her  living,  of  course,  and  she  will  be 
slow  to  leave  Miss  Upton's  protection,  for 
she  has  proved  that  a  girl's  beauty  may  be 
her  worst  enemy.  Miss  Upton  will  do  a 
bigger  business  than  ever,  that  is  easily 
prophesied.  The  hilarious,  rowdy  parties 
that  come  over  in  motor-boats  will  pass  the 
word  along  that  there  is  something  worth 
seeing  at  Upton's  this  'year.  They  will 
crack  their  jokes,  and  Miss  Melody  will  be 
loyal  to  her  employer.  She  won't  want  to 
discourage  trade.  They  will  make  longer 
visits  than  usual  and  the  phonograph  will 
work  overtime." 

Mrs.  Barry  had  risen  slowly  during  this 
harangue  and  now  looked  down  upon  her 
-son  with  haughty,  displeased  eyes. 

"I  shall  speak  to  Miss  Upton,"  she  said. 

"I  advise  you  not  to,"  returned  Ben 
dryly,  crossing  one  leg  over  the  other  and 

272 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


embracing  his  knee.  "  I  don't  think  you  are 
in  any  position  to  dictate.  I  left  a  merry 
party  down  there  just  now.  Mrs.  Whipp 
cracking  the  air  with  chuckles,  Mehitable 
rocking  the  store  with  her  activities,  Miss 
Melody  enveloped  in  a  gigantic  apron  and 
with  a  large  smudge  across  her  cheek,  hav 
ing  the  time  of  her  life  unpacking  boxes.  I 
was  sorry  to  bereave  them  of  Pete,  but  it 
won't  take  them  long  now  to  be  ready  for 
business." 

Mrs.  Barry  did  not  speak.  A  catbird  sang 
in  an  apple  tree,  a  call  to  vespers. 

"This  won't  do  for  me,"  said  Ben,  sud 
denly  rising.  "I'll  go  up  and  throw  a  few 
things  into  my  bag.  Give  us  a  bite  to  eat, 
Mother  dear,  and  tell  Lawson  to  bring 
the  car  around.  We  must  get  the  seven- 
thirty." 

After  her  boy  and  his  humble  lieutenant 
had  left  for  the  train,  the  mother  sat  a  long 
time  on  the  piazza  thinking.  The  telephone 
rang  at  last.  She  sighed,  went  to  its  corner, 
and  sat  down  to  stop  its  annoying  peremp- 
toriness.  For  days  it  had  reminded  her  of 
an  inescapable,  buzzing  gnat,  a  thousand 
times  magnified. 

273 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Barry,"  came  a  girlish  voice 
across  the  wire.  "Don't  think  me  too  in 
quisitive,  but  we're  all  dying  to  know  if  that 
beautiful  girl,  Miss  Melody,  is  going  to  live 
with  Miss  Upton?  Mrs.  Whipp  said  they 
were  going  to  take  her  to  Keefeport  with 
them,  and  somebody  said  they  did  move 
to-day  and  that  she  did  go  with  them.  We 
thought  she  was  visiting  you  and  I  wanted 
to  ask  when  we  might  come  to  call.  We're 
all  dying  to  meet  her.  You  know  Ben  has 
been  a  sort  of  brother  to  us  all,  and  we're 
simply  crazy  to  know  this  girl  and  hear  about 
her  rescue." 

While  this  speech  gushed  into  Mrs.  Barry's 
unwilling  ear,  her  martyred  look  was  fixed 
upon  the  wall  and  her  wits  were  working.  It 
was  Adele  Hastings  talking.  She  had  always 
liked  Adele.  In  fact  this  young  girl  had 
been  her  secret  choice  for  Ben  in  those  in 
nocent  days  when  she  supposed  she  would 
have  some  voice  in  the  most  important 
affair  of  his  life.  She  could  not  turn  Adele 
off  as  she  had  other  questioners. 

"I  suppose  this  is  Adele  Hastings  speak- 
ing." 

"Oh,  did  n't  I  say?  I  do  beg  your  pardon. 
274 


THE   MERMAID   SHOP 


I  just  saw  Ben  on  the  station  platform  with 
the  queerest  little  bow-legged  boy.  Ben 
looked  like  a  giant  beside  him.  I  just  flew 
home  to  the  telephone  to  ask  how  you  were 
and  —  and  —  about  everything." 

"That  is  just  a  servant  Ben  has  picked 
up."  ("A  member  of  our  new  menagerie," 
Mrs.  Barry  felt  like  adding,  but  held  her 
peace  and  continued  to  look  at  the  wall.) 

"Well,  Mother  wanted  me  to  say  to  you 
that  if  you  were  house  cleaning,  or  there 
was  any  other  reason  why  it  was  incon 
venient  for  you  to  have  Miss  Melody  with 
you,  she  would  be  so  glad  to  have  her  come 
to  us  till  you  are  ready.  I  told  Mother  she 
had  probably  gone  to  Keefeport  to  recu 
perate  in  the  quiet  before  the  season  really 
begins.  I  have  n't  seen  Miss  Upton  or  that 
cross  thing  that  tends  store  for  her,  but 
some  people  have,  and  we've  heard  such 
>fairy  tales  about  that  lovely  creature  —  I 
saw  her  on  the  train  with  Miss  Upton  — 
about  her  being  shut  up  with  a  madman 
and  Ben  literally  flying  to  her  rescue  and 
carrying  her  off  under  the  creature's  nose. 
Why,  it's  perfectly  wonderful!  I  can  hardly 
wait  to  hear  the  truth  about  it.  Talk  about 

275 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

the  prince  on  a  milk-white  steed  that  always 
rescued  the  princess  —  Ben  in  his  aeroplane 
makes  him  look  like  thirty  cents." 

"Tut,  tut,"  said  Mrs.  Barry;  "you  know 
I  don't  like  slang." 

The  girlish  voice  laughed.  "But,  dear 
Mrs.  Barry,  'marry  come  up'  and  'ods 
bodikins'  were  probably  slang  in  the  day  of 
the  spear  and  shield.  When  may  I  see  you 
and  hear  about  it?" 

This  direct  question  forced  Mrs.  Barry  to 
a  decision.  The  impossible  Charlotte  Whipp, 
who  had  not  hesitated  to  tell  her  regal  self 
of  her  son's  attentions  to  the  waif,  had  doubt 
less  poured  enough  of  the  yeast  of  gossip 
into  eager  ears  to  set  the  whole  village  to 
swelling  with  curiosity,  and  her  dignity  as 
well  as  Ben's  depended  on  the  attitude  she 
took  at  the  present  moment. 

Her  rather  stiff  and  formal  voice  took  on 
a  more  confidential  tone.  "I'm  going  to  ask 
you  to  wait  a  few  days,  Adele.  We  have 
been  passing  through  rather  stirring  times. 
I  thank  your  mother  very  much  for  her 
kind  offer,  but  it  seemed  best  for  Miss 
Melody  to  go  to  the  sea,  at  least  for  a  few 
days.  You  know  what  an  excellent  soul 

276 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


Miss  Upton  is.  Miss  Melody  knew  her 
before,  and  as  the  girl  was  a  good  deal  upset 
by  some  exciting  experiences,  and  as  I  was 
a  complete  stranger,  Miss  Upton  stepped 
into  the  breach.  Please  don't  believe  the 
exaggerated  stories  that  may  be  going  about. 
Ben  was  able  to  do  the  young  lady  a  favor, 
that  is  all.  As  you  say,  she  is  very  charm 
ing  to  look  upon.  We  shall  all  know  her 
better  after  a  while." 

"Well,  just  one  thing  before  you  hang  up, 
dear  Mrs.  Barry.  I  know  you  will  excuse 
my  asking  it,  because  I  know  your  stand 
ards,  and  you  have  been  an  even  stronger 
influence  upon  me  socially  than  my  own 
mother;  but  is  —  is  Miss  Melody  the  sort  of 
girl  you  will  entertain  as  an  —  an  equal?  or 
does  she  —  it  sounds  horrid  to  ask  it  —  or  does 
she  belong  more  in  good  Miss  Upton's  class  ?" 

Mrs.  Barry  ground  her  teeth  together, 
and  luckily  the  wall  of  her  reception  room 
was  of  tough  stuff  or  her  look  would  have 
withered  it.  She  had  a  mental  flashlight  of 
Geraldine  serving  trippers  with  ice-cream 
cones  behind  Miss  Upton's  counter. 

"My  dear,"  she  said  suavely,  "do  you 
sound  a  little  bit  snobbish?" 

277 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"No  more  than  you  have  taught  me  to 
be,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "I  want  to  be 
have  toward  Miss  Melody  just  as  you  wish 
me  to.  It  looks  to  us  all,  of  course,  as  if  she 
were  Miss  Upton's  friend  and  not  yours." 

Mrs.  Barry's  cheeks  flamed.  This  dread 
ful  youngster  was  forcing  her,  hurrying  her, 
and  she  would  be  spokesman  to  the  village. 
Ben's  infatuation  left  her  no  choice. 

"Oh,  quite  in  ours,  quite,  I  judge,"  she 
said  graciously.  "Ben  thinks  her  quite 
exceptional." 

The  girlish  voice  laughed  again:  not  so 
gleefully  as  Mrs.  Barry  could  have  wished. 
She  hoped  they  were  not  sister-sufferers ! 

"  I  should  judge  so,  from  what  Mrs.  Whipp 
has  told  people.  Well,  I  will  be  patient, 
Mrs.  Barry.  We  want  to  show  all  courtesy 
to  Ben's  friend  when  the  right  time  comes. 
Good-bye." 

"Good-bye,"  replied  Mrs.  Barry,  and  hung 
up  the  receiver. 

She  sat  a  few  minutes  more  without  mov 
ing,  deep  in  thought. 

"I  have  no  choice,"  she  said  to  herself  at 
last.  "I  have  no  choice." 

The  next  day  she  moved  about  restlessly 
278 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


amid  her  accustomed  occupations  and  by 
evening  had  come  to  a  conclusion  and  made 
a  plan  which  on  the  following  afternoon  she 
carried  out. 

After  an  early  luncheon  she  set  forth  in 
her  motor  for  Keefeport.  Miss  Upton's  little 
establishment  was  in  nice  order  by  this  time 
and  the  sign  had  been  hung  up  over  the 
door:  "The  Mermaid  Shop."  By  the  time 
Mrs.  Barry's  car  stopped  before  it,  the 
three  residents  had  eaten  their  dinner  and 
the  dishes  were  set  away. 

"There 's  so  few  folks  here  yet,  there 's 
hardly  anything  to  do  in  the  store,"  said 
Miss  Mehitable  to  Geraldine.  "Now's  the 
time  for  you  to  go  out  and  walk  around  and 
see  the  handsome  cottages  and  the  grand 
rocky  shore.  This  wharf  ain't  anything  to 


see." 


"Do  you  think  Pearl  would  like  to  go  to 
walk?"  said  the  girl,  picking  up  the  hand 
some  cat,  while  Charlotte  looked  on  ap 
provingly. 

"Pearl  does  hate  this  movin*  business," 
she  said.  "It'll  be  weeks  before  she'll  find 
a  spot  in  the  house  where  she  can  really 
settle  down." 

279 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Geraldine  was  burying  her  face  in  the  soft 
fur  when  the  motor  flashed  up  to  the  grassy 
path  before  the  shop,  and  stopped. 

"For  the  land's  sake!"  said  Miss  Me- 
hitable.  "It's  the  Barry  car."  She  hur 
ried  forward,  and  Geraldine,  still  holding 
the  cat  against  her  cheek,  saw  the  chauffeur 
open  the  door  and  Mrs.  Barry  emerge. 

Ben's  assurance  flashed  into  her  thought. 
"Whatever  she  may  do  hereafter,  remember 
it  is  of  her  own  volition." 

The  lady  came  in,  and,  smiling  a  return  to 
Miss  Mehitable's  welcome,  looked  at  the 
girl  in  the  blue  dress.  She  liked  the  self- 
possessed  manner  with  which  Geraldine 
greeted  her. 

"I'm  trying  to  make  Pearl  feel  at  home, 
you  see,"  said  the  girl.  "Mrs.  Whipp  says 
it  is  very  hard  for  her  to  move." 

"Yes,  I  know  that  is  a  pussy's  nature.  I 
like  cats,  but  I  like  birds  better,  so  I  don't 
keep  any.  How  nice  you  look  here.  Oh, 
what  charming  roses!"  going  to  the  nodding 
beauties  standing  in  a  vase  on  the  counter. 
"Are  those  for  sale?  If  so  they're  going 
home  to  Keefe." 

"No,  Mrs.  Barry,  they  ain't  for  sale," 
280 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


replied  Miss  Mehitable.  "I'm  so  proud  of 
'em  I  can  hardly  stand  it.  Ben  sent  'em  to 
me.  Was  n't  he  the  dear  boy  to  give  the 
Mermaid  such  a  send-off?" 

"He  is  a  nice  boy,  is  n't  he,  Miss  Upton?" 
returned  the  visitor  graciously.  "I'm  glad 
to  see  you  looking  so  well,  Miss  Melody." 

Geraldine  certainly  had  plenty  of  color 
and  she  held  to  the  cat  as  an  embarrassed 
actor  does  to  a  prop.  "I  tried  to  see  you 
one  day  at  Keefe,  but  you  were  out." 

"Yes,  I  was  dressin'  the  doll  that  day," 
said  Miss  Mehitable,  smiling.  She  dis 
cerned  friendliness  in  the  air  and  was  elated. 

"The  result  is  very  nice,"  said  Mrs.  Barry 
graciously. 

"Yes,  I  think  blue  serges  are  about  the 
best  thing  at  the  seaside.  I  wanted  to  get 
her  one  o'  these  here  real  snappy  sailor 
dresses,  but  she  kept  holdin'  me  back,  hold- 
in'  me  back,  till  it's  a  wonder  we  got  any 
clothes  at  all!"  Miss  Upton  laughed,  and 
as  Geraldine  turned  toward  her  with  a 
smile,  Mrs.  Barry  was  conscious  of  a  faint 
echo  of  that  smile's  effect  upon  her  son. 

Charlotte  stood  at  the  back  of  the  shop 
looking  on  and  reflectively  picking  her  teeth 

281 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

with  a  pin.  "She's  a  real  good  worker, 
Geraldine  is,"  she  remarked  with  a  sniff, 
"I'll  say  that  for  her." 

An  angry  flash  leaped  up  Mrs.  Barry's 
spine.  That  settled  it.  This  exquisite  crea 
ture  must  not  stay  where  that  charwoman 
could  speak  of  her  so  familiarly. 

"Certainly  there  has  been  a  lot  of  good 
work  done  here,"  she  said,  looking  about, 
"but  it  is  a  little  early  to  come  down  yet. 
I  have  a  lot  of  curtains  to  make  for  my  cot 
tage.  Miss  Melody"  —  turning  to  the  girl 
with  her  most  winning  look  —  "you  have 
these  people  all  settled,  don't  you  want  to 
come  home  with  me  and  help  me  make  my 
curtains?" 

Geraldine's  heart  leaped  in  her  throat. 
Although  she  had  put  up  a  brave  front  she 
was  terribly  afraid  of  the  queen  of  Keefe. 

"Why,  that  would  be  fine!"  exclaimed 
Miss  Mehitable,  her  optimistic  spirit  at 
once  seeing  her  clouds  roll  away  and  dis 
perse  in  mist. 

"I  don't  think  everything  is  done  here," 
said  Geraldine;  "I  don't  think  you  can 
spare  me." 

"Of  course  I  can,"  returned  Miss  Me- 
282 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


hitable  vehemently.  "You  can  go  just  as 
well  as  not."  She  perceived  that  this  was 
not  at  all  the  answer  the  girl  wanted,  but 
she  was  determined  to  override  all  objec 
tions  and  even  Geraldine's  own  feelings. 

The  latter  looked  at  Mrs.  Barry  with  a 
faint  smile.  She  only  hoped  that  Miss  Up 
ton's  mental  processes  were  not  such  an 
open  book  to  the  visitor  as  they  were  to 
herself.  She  saw  plainly  that  if  it  came  to 
the  necessity  Miss  Mehitable  would  throw 
her  into  the  motor  with  her  own  hands. 

"She  is  not  very  complimentary,  is  she?" 
she  remarked.  "I  thought  I  was  so  im 
portant." 

"She  hain't  seen  the  Port  yet  either. 
Have  you,  Gerrie?"  came  from  the  back  of 
the  store. 

Miss  Mehitable  turned  on  the  speaker. 
"As  if  there  was  any  hurry  about  that!" 
she  said,  so  fiercely  that  Charlotte  evaporated 
through  the  back  door  of  the  shop  into  the 
regions  beyond. 

"Pm  sure  you  were  important,"  said  Mrs. 
Barry,  "but  it  is  I  who  need  you  now." 

"I'll  help  you  get  your  things,"  said  Miss 
Upton,  moving  to  the  stairs  with  alacrity. 

283 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Geraldine  dropped  Pearl.  She  could  not 
defend  her  any  longer. 

"Wait,  Miss  Upton,"  said  Mrs.  Barry. 
"How  would  it  be  for  you  to  pack  Miss 
Melody's  trunk  and  express  it  after  we  are 
gone?" 

Miss  Mehitable's  face  was  one  broad 
beam.  A  trunk! 

"She  has  n't  got  any,"  she  replied.  "Of 
course  hers  was  left  in  that  No  Man's  Land 
and  we  just  brought  things  down  here  in 
suit-cases  and  boxes." 

"Very  well,  then,  we  can  take  them  with 
us." 

"But  I  shan't  need  — "  began  Geraldine. 

Mrs.  Barry  interrupted  her.  "It  is  always 
hard  to  foresee  just  what  one  will  need  even 
in  a  week's  time.  We  may  as  well  take 
everything." 

"Such  a  small  everything,"  added  Ger 
aldine. 

A  little  pulse  was  beating  in  her  throat. 
She  dreaded  to  find  herself  alone  with  this 
grande  dame.  She  believed  that  Ben  had 
kept  his  promise  and  that  this  move  of  his 
mother  was  being  made  of  her  own  volition, 
but  in  what  capacity  was  she  being  invited? 
284 


THE   SHOP  MERMAID 


Was  it  a  case  of  giving  a  piece  of  employ 
ment  to  a  needy  girl  in  her  son's  absence,  or 
was  she  being  asked  on  the  footing  of  a 
friend?  In  any  case,  she  knew  her  lover 
would  wish  her  to  go,  and  as  for  Miss  Upton 
she  would  use  violence  if  necessary. 

She  went  upstairs  and  came  down  wear 
ing  the  black  sailor  hat  of  the  Keefe  brand, 
and  carrying  a  suit-case.  Miss  Mehitable 
followed  with  sundry  boxes  which  she  took 
to  the  motor.  Lamson  jumped  out  and 
came  to  the  shop  to  get  the  suit-case. 

"One  moment  more,  please,"  said  Miss 
Upton,  and  vanished  upstairs.  She  re 
turned  bearing  a  large  hatbox. 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Upton!"  exclaimed  Ger- 
aldine  as  Miss  Mehitable  had  known  she 
would.  "Keep  that  till  I  come  back.  It's 
a  seashore  hat." 

"It  is  not,"  said  Miss  Mehitable  defi 
antly.  "It  is  a  town  hat.  She  got  the 
present  of  a  beautiful  hat,  Mrs.  Barry  — " 

"Dear  Miss  Upton  does  n't  say  that  she 
gave  it  to  me  herself,"  put  in  Geraldine. 

No,  dear  Miss  Upton  did  not;  for  she  had 
a  New  England  conscience;  but  she  con 
tinued  firmly: 

285 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"She  may  want  to  wear  it;  she's  got  a 
white  dress." 

Geraldine  colored.  Mrs.  Barry  had  seen 
her  white  dress. 

"By  all  means  let  us  take  the  hat,"  said 
that  lady,  and  Lamson  bore  off  the  box. 

"  Au  revoir,  then,"  said  Geraldine,  trying 
to  speak  lightly,  and  kissing  Miss  Me- 
hitable.  "I'll  let  you  know  what  day  I  am 
coming  back.  Say  good-bye  to  Mrs.  Whipp 
for  me." 

Mrs.  Barry's  face  became  inscrutable  as 
Geraldine  spoke.  She  had  seen  the  counter, 
and  the  phonograph,  and  in  fancy  she  could 
see  the  impending  excursionists. 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Upton."  And  the 
shining  motor  started.  "To  Rockcrest, 
Lamson." 

Miss  Mehitable  went  back  into  the  house. 
She  suspected  she  should  find  Charlotte 
weeping,  and  she  did. 

"I  s'pose  I  can't  never  say  anything 
right,"  sniffed  the  injured  one  upon  her  em 
ployer's  entrance. 

"Never  mind  us,  Charlotte,"  responded 
Miss  Upton.  "That's  a  very  big  thing 
that's  just  happened.  I'm  so  tickled  I'd 

286 


THE  MERMAID   SHOP 


dance  if  I  thought  the  house  would  stand 
it." 

"I  don't  see  anything  so  wonderful  in 
that  stuck-up  woman  givin'  the  girl  a  job  o' 
sewin',"  returned  Mrs.  Whipp,  blowing  her 
nose.  "When  will  Gerrie  come  back?  How 
we'll  miss  her!" 

"I  think,"  said  Miss  Upton,  impressively 
—  "I  think  it  is  very  safe  to  say  —  Never!" 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean!" 

"I  mean  Mrs.  Barry  ain't  goin'  to  let  that 
girl  stand  behind  my  counter  this  summer." 
Miss  Mehitable  gave  a  sudden,  sly  laugh. 
"I  was  n't  goin'  to  let  her  anyway,"  she 
added,  in  a  low  tone  as  if  the  walls  might 
have  ears,  "but  Mrs.  Barry  don't  know 
that,  and  I  'm  glad  she  don't." 

Miss  Upton  sat  down  and  laughed  and 
rocked,  and  rocked  and  laughed  until  Mrs. 
Whipp  began  to  worry. 

"Thumbscrews,"  said  Miss  Mehitable, 
between  each  burst,  "thumbscrews!" 

"Where  shall  I  git  'em?"  asked  Charlotte, 
rising  and  staring  about  her  vaguely. 

"Never  mind.  Let's  have  some  tea,"  said 
Miss  Mehitable,  wiping  her  eyes. 


287 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  CLOUDS  DISPERSE 

AND  so  with  the  entrance  into  that  automo 
bile  began  still  another  chapter  in  Geraldine 
Melody's  life.  While  they  drove  through 
the  attractive  avenues  of  the  resort  and 
Mrs.  Barry  pointed  out  the  cottages  belong 
ing  to  well-known  people,  the  young  girl 
was  making  an  effort  for  her  own  self- 
possession.  To  be  alone  with  the  mother 
of  her  knight  was  exciting,  and  her  de 
termination  was  not  to  allow  any  emotion 
to  be  observable  in  her  manner.  She  did 
not  yet  know  whether  she  was  present  as  a 
seamstress  or  as  a  guest.  She  felt  that  in 
either  case  she  had  been  summoned  for  in 
spection,  for  of  course  Ben  had  left  his 
mother  in  no  doubt  as  to  his  sentiments. 
Mrs.  Barry  evinced  no  embarrassment.  Her 
smooth  monologue  flowed  on  without  a 
question.  Perhaps  she  suspected  the  tu 
mult  in  the  fluttering  heart  beside  her,  and 
was  giving  the  young  girl  time.  At  all 

288 


THE   CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

events,  nothing  that  she  said  required  an 
answer,  and  Geraldine  obediently  looked, 
unseeing,  at  every  object  she  pointed  out. 

The  motor  rolled  across  a  bridge.  "Here 
you  see  Keefeport  even  boasts  a  little  river," 
said  Mrs.  Barry.  "The  young  people  can 
enjoy  a  mild  canoe  trip  as  well  as  their  ex 
citing  yachting.  I  am  going  to  stop  at  my 
cottage  and  give  a  few  orders,  so  long  as  I 
am  here." 

Another  five  minutes  of  swift  riding 
brought  them  to  the  driveway  leading  to  a 
cottage  placed  on  a  rocky  height  close  to 
the  sea.  "We  have  a  rather  wonderful  view, 
you  see,"  Mrs.  Barry's  calm  voice  went  on. 
"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  get  out  and 
walk  about  the  piazza  while  I  speak  with 
the  caretaker." 

Geraldine  followed  her  out  of  the  luxuri 
ous  car,  feeling  very  small  and  insignificant 
and  resenting  the  sensation  made  upon  her 
by  the  imposing  surroundings.  She  wished 
herself  back  with  Miss  Upton  and  the  cat; 
but  she  mounted  the  steps  and  stood  on  the 
wide  porch  looking  on  the  jagged  rocks  be 
neath.  The  sea  came  hissing  in  among 
them,  flinging  up  spray  and  dragging  back 
289 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

noisily  in  the  strong  wind  to  make  ready  for 
another  onslaught.  The  vast  view  was  su 
perb  and  suggested  all  the  poems  she  had 
ever  read  about  the  sea.  Mrs.  Barry  had 
gone  into  the  house  and  now  came  out  with 
the  caretakers,  a  man  and  wife,  with  whom 
she  examined  the  progress  of  flowers  and 
vines  growing  in  sheltered  nooks.  Geraldine 
resolutely  shut  out  memories  of  her  knight. 
The  girls  whose  summers  were  spent  among 
these  scenes  were  his  friends,  and  among 
them  his  mother  had  doubtless  selected 
some  fastidious  maiden  who  had  never  en 
countered  disgraceful  moments. 

"I  belong  to  myself,"  thought  Geraldine 
proudly,  forcing  back  some  stinging  drops, 
salt  as  the  vast  waters  before  her.  "I  don't 
need  anybody,  I  don't."  She  fought  down 
again  the  memory  of  her  lover's  embraces. 
Ever  afterward  she  remembered  those  few 
minutes  alone  on  the  piazza  at  Rockcrest, 
overwhelmed  by  the  sensation  of  contrast 
between  herself  on  sufferance  in  her  cheap 
raiment,  and  the  indications  all  about  her 
of  the  opposite  extreme  of  luxury  —  re 
membered  those  moments  as  affording  her 
a  poignant  unhappiness. 
290 


THE  CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

"I  won't  ask  you  to  come  into  the  cot 
tage,"  said  Mrs.  Barry,  approaching  at  the 
close  of  her  interview.  "The  rugs  have  n't 
been  unrolled  yet,  and  it  is  all  in  disorder. 
Is  n't  that  a  superb  show  of  sky  and  sea, 
and  never  twice  alike?" 

"Superb,"  echoed  Geraldine. 

"You  are  shivering,"  said  her  hostess. 
"It  is  many  degrees  colder  here  than  over 
in  the  sheltered  place  where  Miss  Upton 
has  her  shop.  I  have  quite  finished.  Let 
us  go  back." 

They  went  down  to  the  car  and  were  soon 
speeding  toward  Keefe.  Beside  Lamson  sat 
the  imposing  hatbox.  Somehow  it  added 
to  Geraldine's  unhappiness,  as  if  jeering  at 
her  for  an  effort  to  appear  what  she  was 
not. 

She  must  talk.  Her  regal  companion 
would  suspect  her  wretchedness. 

"What  are  you  going  to  make  your  cur 
tains  of,  Mrs.  Barry?"  she  asked. 

The  commonplace  proved  a  most  felici 
tous  question.  The  lady  described  material, 
took  her  measurements  out  of  her  purse, 
and  discussed  ruffles  and  tucks  and  de 
scribed  location  and  size  of  windows,  dur- 
291 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

ing  which  talk  the  young  girl  was  able 
to  throw  off  the  spell  that  had  held  her 
mute. 

She  did  not  suspect  how  her  companion 
was  listening  with  discriminating  ears  to 
her  speech,  and  the  very  tones  of  her  voice, 
and  watching  with  discriminating  eyes  her 
manner  and  expression.  Ben  had  told  his 
mother  to  take  her  magnifying  glass  and 
she  had  begun  to  use  it. 

When  the  motor  entered  the  home  grounds 
at  Keefe,  Geraldine  resisted  the  associa 
tions  of  her  last  arrival  there.  A  faint  mist 
of  apple  blossoms  still  clung  in  spots  to  the 
orchard. 

Lamson  carried  her  poor  little  effects  and 
the  hateful,  grandiose  hatbox  into  the 
living-room  where  one  day  she  had  re 
gained  her  scattered  senses. 

"You  may  take  these  things  up  to  the 
blue  room,"  Mrs.  Barry  said  to  the  maid 
who  appeared,  "and  you  will  give  Miss 
Melody  any  assistance  she  requires." 

Geraldine  followed  the  girl  upstairs  to  the 
charming  room  assigned  to  her.  Every 
dainty  convenience  was  within  its  walls. 
The  pleasant  maid's  manner  was  all  alac- 

292 


THE  CLOUDS  DISPERSE 

rity.  It  was  safe  to  believe  that  she  knew 
more  than  her  mistress  about  Geraldine, 
and  the  attitude  toward  her  of  the  young 
master  of  the  house.  The  guest  looked 
about  her  and  recalled  her  room  at  the 
Carder  farm,  the  patchwork  quilt  at  the 
Upton  Emporium,  and  her  last  shakedown 
under  the  eaves  of  the  Keefeport  shell 
house. 

Between  the  filmy  white  curtains  at  these 
windows  she  could  see  the  rosy  vestiges  of 
the  orchard  bloom.  The  furniture  of  the 
room  was  apparently  ivory,  the  bathroom 
silver  and  porcelain.  Azure  and  white  color 
ing  were  in  all  the  decorations.  The  maid 
was  unpacking  her  boxes.  Geraldine  was 
ashamed  of  her  own  mortification  in  allow 
ing  her  to  see  the  contents. 

"I  think  I'd  rather  do  that  myself,"  she 
said  hastily. 

"Some  ladies  do,"  returned  the  girl. 

"Especially,"  rejoined  Geraldine,  "when 
they  are  not  used  to  being  waited  upon!" 

She  accompanied  this  with  a  look  of  such 
frank  sweetness  that  she  counted  one  more 
victim  to  her  charms. 

"She  isn't  one  bit  stuck-up,"  the  maid 
293 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

reported  downstairs,  "and  I  never  saw  such 
hair  and  eyes  in  all  my  life." 

"They've  done  for  Mr.  Ben  all  right," 
remarked  the  chauffeur.  "I  guess  Madam 
thought  it  was  about  time  to  get  acquainted." 

When  Geraldine  came  downstairs  an  hour 
later,  she  was  arrayed  in  the  cheap  little 
green-and-white  house  dress  which  had  been 
one  of  her  purchases  with  Miss  Upton,  and 
was  intended  for  summer  use  in  the  shop. 
As  she  wandered  into  the  living-room,  Mrs. 
Barry  walking  on  the  piazza  perceived  her 
through  the  long,  open  windows  and  came 
to  join  her. 

"Did  you  find  everything  quite  com 
fortable?"  she  asked  solicitously. 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Geraldine.  "It  is 
quite  wonderful  after  one  has  been  leading 
a  camping-out  life." 

Mrs.  Barry  continued  to  approve  her  in 
tonation  and  manner. 

"You  certainly  have  passed  through 
strange  vicissitudes,"  she  replied.  "Some 
time  you  must  tell  me  your  story-book 
adventures." 

"They    are    not    very    pleasant    reminis 
cences,"  said  Geraldine. 
294 


THE   CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

"Very  well,  then,  you  shall  not  be  made 
to  rehearse  them." 

A  maid  appeared  and  announced  dinner. 

Geraldine's  repressed  excitement  took 
away  her  appetite  for  the  perfectly  served 
repast.  Mrs.  Barry's  regal  personality 
seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  establishment. 
One  could  not  imagine  any  detail  ventur 
ing  to  go  wrong;  any  food  to  be  underdone 
or  overdone;  any  servant  to  venture  to 
make  trouble.  The  machinery  of  the  house 
hold  moved  on  oiled  wheels.  A  delicate 
cleanliness,  quietness,  order,  pervaded  the 
home  and  all  its  surroundings. 

Mrs.  Barry  made  no  comment  on  her 
guest's  lack  of  appetite.  When  they  had 
finished,  she  led  her  out  to  the  porch  where 
their  coffee  was  served. 

"Now,  is  n't  this  an  improvement  on 
Rockcrest?"  she  asked  as  they  sat  listen 
ing  to  the  sleepy,  closing  evening  songs  of 
the  thrushes.  "Imagine  trying  to  drink  our 
coffee  on  that  piazza,  where  we  were  this 
afternoon.  There  is  a  more  sheltered  por 
tion,  a  part  that  I  have  enclosed  in  glass; 
but  my  son  likes  the  front  to  be  all  open  to 
the  elements." 

295 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"It  is  very  beautiful  here,"  said  Geraldine. 
"It  must  be  hard  for  you  to  tear  yourself 
away  even  later  in  the  season." 

"That  is  what  does  it,"  returned  Mrs. 
Barry,  waving  her  hand  toward  a  large 
thermometer  affixed  to  one  of  the  columns. 
"When  you  come  down  some  morning  and 
find  the  mercury  trying  to  go  over  the  top, 
you  are  ready  to  flit  where  there  are  no 
great  trees  to  seem  to  hold  in  the  air."  The 
speaker  paused,  regarding  the  young  girl 
for  a  moment  in  silence.  An  appreciation 
of  her  had  been  growing  ever  since  they 
left  Keefeport,  and  now  for  the  first  time 
she  allowed  herself  a  pleasure  in  Geraldine's 
beauty.  It  was  wonderful  camouflage  if  it 
was  nothing  more.  "Do  you  enjoy  music, 
Miss  Melody?"  she  asked  suddenly. 

The  girl  gave  her  a  faint  smile. 

"Foolish  question,  is  n't  it?"  she  added. 
"I  usually  play  awhile  in  the  evening."  She 
set  down  her  cup  and  rose. 

Geraldine  rose  also,  looked  pleased  and 
eager. 

"I'm  so  glad,"  she  replied.  "I  have  no 
accomplishments  myself." 

A  vague  memory  of  having  heard  some- 
296 


THE   CLOUDS  DISPERSE 

thing  about  a  cruel  stepmother  assailed  the 
hostess.  She  smiled  kindly  at  the  girl. 
"Some  people  have  gifts  instead,"  she  said. 
"Stay  here.  I  will  go  in  and  try  to  give 
you  some  happy  thoughts." 

Geraldine  sank  back  in  her  chair,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  graceful  elms  and  the  vivid 
streaks  across  a  sunset  sky. 

As  the  strains  of  Chopin,  Schumann,  and 
Brahms  came  through  the  open  window  it 
necessitated  some  effort  not  to  have  too 
happy  thoughts.  The  skillful  musician 
modulated  from  one  number  to  another, 
and  Geraldine,  all  ignorant  in  her  art- 
starved  life,  of  what  she  was  hearing,  gave 
herself  up  to  the  loveliness  of  sight  and 
sound. 

When  Mrs.  Barry  reappeared,  the  girl's 
eyelids  were  red,  and  as  she  started  up  to 
meet  her  she  put  out  her  hands  impul 
sively,  and  the  musician  laughed  a  little  as 
she  accepted  their  grasp,  well  pleased  with 
the  eloquent  speechlessness. 

When  Geraldine  waked  the  next  morning 
her  first  vague  thought  was  that  she  must 
shake  off  sleep  and  help  Mrs.  Carder.  That 
troubling  sense  faded  into  another,  also 

297 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

troubling.  She  was  to  spend  a  whole  day, 
perhaps  several  whole  days,  with  the  rather 
fearful  splendor  of  the  mother  of  her  knight. 
That  in  itself  would  not  be  so  bad,  Mrs. 
Barry  had  shown  a  kind  intention,  but  the 
knight  himself  might  return  at  any  hour. 
Why  had  she  come?  Yet  how  refuse  when 
her  previous  hostess  had  so  energetically 
thrown  her  out  of  the  nest? 

The  sun  had  gone  behind  clouds.  She 
rose,  closed  her  windows,  and  made  her 
toilet,  then  descended  to  the  hall  where 
Mrs.  Barry  met  her  with  a  pleasant  greet 
ing  and  they  went  in  to  breakfast. 

"We  're  going  to  catch  some  rain,  it 
seems,"  she  said.  "It  is  nice  Miss  Upton  is 
moved  and  settled." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Geraldine,  "and  curtain- 
making  can  go  on  just  as  well  in  the  rain." 

"You  had  a  good  sleep,  I'm  sure,"  said 
the  hostess,  regarding  her  freshness. 

"Yes,  I  am  ready  and  full  of  energy  to 
begin,"  said  the  girl.  "I  feel  that  I  am  go 
ing  to  do  the  work  quickly  and  go  back 
sooner  than  Miss  Upton  expects.  It  is  nice 
for  them  to  have  some  young  hands  and  feet 
to  call  upon." 

298 


THE   CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

"I  hope  you  don't  feel  in  haste,"  re 
turned  Mrs.  Barry  politely.  She  was  so 
courteous,  so  gracious,  so  powerful,  and 
such  leagues  away  from  her,  Geraldine 
longed  to  get  at  the  work,  and  know  what 
to  do  with  her  hands  and  her  eyes. 

Very  soon  the  curtain  material  was  pro 
duced.  Mrs.  Barry  had  the  sewing  machine 
moved  into  the  living-room  where  there 
was  plenty  of  space  for  the  billowy  white 
stuff,  and  they  began  their  measuring. 

The  air  was  sultry  preceding  the  storm, 
and  a  distant  rumbling  of  thunder  was 
heard.  The  house  door  was  left  open  as 
well  as  the  long  French  windows  which 
gave  upon  the  piazza. 

The  guest  had  slept  late,  delaying  the 
breakfast  hour,  and  the  two  had  been  work 
ing  at  the  curtains  only  a  short  time  when  a 
man,  strange  to  Mrs.  Barry,  walked  into 
the  living-room.  Approaching  on  the  foot 
path  to  the  house,  Geraldine  only  had  been 
visible  to  him  through  the  window.  He  be 
lieved  her  to  be  alone  in  the  room,  and  the 
house  door  standing  open  he  had  dispensed 
with  the  formality  of  ringing  and  walked 
in. 

299 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

Something  in  the  wildness  of  the  in 
truder's  look  startled  the  hostess  and  she 
pressed  a  button  in  the  wall. 

She  saw  Geraldine's  face  blanch  and  her 
eyes  dilate  with  terror  as  the  man  ap 
proached  her,  but  no  sound  escaped  her 
lips.  The  stranger  put  out  his  hand.  The 
girl  shrank  back.  The  queen  of  Keefe 
stepped  forward. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this?"  she  ex 
claimed  sternly.  "What  do  you  wish?" 

The  man  turned  and  faced  her.  "I've 
come  on  important  business  with  this  girl. 
My  name  is  Rufus  Carder  —  you  may  have 
heard  of  it.  Geraldine  Melody  belongs  to 
me.  Her  father  gave  her  to  me."  He 
turned  back  quickly  to  the  girl,  for  Mrs. 
Barry's  face  warned  him  that  his  time  was 
short. 

"You  may  have  gone  away  against  your 
will,  Gerrie,"  he  said.  "It  ain't  too  late  to 
save  your  father.  Come  back  with  me  now 
and  there  won't  be  a  word  said.  Refuse  to 
come,  and  to-morrow  all  his  pals  shall  know 
what  he  was." 

Geraldine  straightened  her  slight  body. 
Terror  was  in  every  line  of  her  delicate  face, 

300 


Geraldine  Melody  belongs  to  me.   Her  Father  gave 
her  to  me  " 


but  Mrs.  Barry  saw  her  control  it.  The  de 
tails  of  the  stories  she  had  heard  came  back 
to  her  vividly.  She  realized  the  suffering 
and  the  fate  from  which  her  boy  had  de 
livered  the  captive.  Geraldine  was  ex 
quisite  to  look  at  now  as  she  faced  her  jailer. 
That  ethereal  quality  which  was  hers  gave 
her  spirituelle  face  a  wonderful  appeal. 

"Ben  was  right,"  thought  Mrs.  Barry 
with  a  thrill  of  pride.  "She  is  a  thor 
oughbred." 

"Mr.  Carder,"  she  said,  approaching  still 
nearer,  her  peremptory  tone  forcing  him  to 
turn  his  long,  twitching  face  toward  her, 
"Miss  Melody  is  about  to  marry  my  son. 
He  will  attend  to  any  business  you  may  have 
with  her." 

"Huh!  That's  it,  is  it?  You  don't  look 
like  the  kind  of  woman  who  will  enjoy  hav 
ing  a  forger  in  the  family." 

The  girl's  eyes  closed  under  the  stab. 

"Geraldine,  I  should  like  you  to  go  up 
stairs,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Barry  gently.  The 
girl  moved  slowly  toward  the  door,  Carder's 
eyes  following  her  full  of  a  fierce,  baffled 
hunger. 

He  turned  on  Mrs.  Barry  with  the  ugliest 
301 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

look  she  had  ever  beheld  in  a  human  coun 
tenance. 

"Your  son  has  stolen  my  boy,  too,  my 
servant,  and  I've  come  after  him,"  he  said. 
"The  law '11  teach  that  fellow  whether  he 
can  take  other  people's  property.  That 
boy  was  bound  to  me  out  o'  the  asylum  and 
I  won't  stand  such  impudence,  I  warn  you. 
Where  is  he?  Where  is  Pete?  I've  got  a 
few  things  to  teach  him."  The  furious  man 
was  breathing  heavily. 

"I  understand  that  you  have  taught  him 
a  few  things  already,"  replied  Mrs.  Barry, 
her  eyes  as  steady  as  her  voice.  "I  think, 
as  you  say,  the  law  may  take  a  hand  in  your 
affairs.  My  son  and  Pete  have  gone  to 
the  city  now,  and  I  fancy  it  is  on  your 
business." 

"What  business?"  ejaculated  Carder, 
fumbling  his  hat,  his  rage  appearing  to  feel 
a  check. 

"That  I  don't  know,  really.  I  was  not 
interested;  but  I  seem  to  remember  hearing 
my  son  use  your  name.  —  Lamson,  is  that 
you  ? "  she  added  in  the  same  tone. 

The  chauffeur  was  standing  at  the  door. 
"Yes,  Mrs.  Barry,  you  rang." 

302 


THE  CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

"Show  this  man  the  way  to  the  station, 
Lamson." 

Rufus  Carder  gave  her  one  parting,  vin 
dictive  look,  and  strode  to  the  door. 

"Out  of  my  way!"  he  said  savagely,  as 
he  pushed  by  the  chauffeur  and  proceeded 
out  of  doors  and  down  the  path  like  one  in 
haste.  Mrs.  Barry  believed  he  was,  indeed, 
in  haste  and  driven  by  fear. 

She  proceeded  upstairs  to  Geraldine's 
room  and  found  the  girl  pacing  the  floor. 
She  paused  and  gazed  at  her  hostess,  her 
eyes  dry  and  bright.  Mrs.  Barry  approached 
and  took  her  in  her  arms.  At  the  affec 
tionate  embrace  a  sob  rose  in  the  girl's 
throat. 

"When  he  says  it,  it  seems  true  again," 
she  said  brokenly.  "Ben  says  it  is  probably 
a  lie,  but  I  don't  know,  I  don't  know." 

"That  wretch  declaring  it  makes  it  likely 
to  be  untrue.  Ben  tells  me  you  have  lost 
your  father,  and  if  no  proceedings  were 
taken  against  him  in  his  lifetime,  I  should 
not  fear  now.  My  son  hints  at  disreputable 
things  committed  by  this  man,  and  if  he 
can  prove  them,  which  he  has  gone  to  do, 
and  Pete  promises  that  they  can  do,  then 

303 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

the  culprit  will  not  want  to  draw  attention 
to  himself  by  starting  any  scandal,  not  even 
for  the  joy  of  revenge  on  you.  Forget  it  all, 
Geraldine."  The  addition  was  made  so 
tenderly  that  the  girl's  desperate  composure 
gave  way  and  she  trembled  in  the  enfolding 
arms. 

Mrs.  Barry  loved  her  for  struggling  not 
to  weep.  She  kissed  her  cheek  as  she  gently 
released  her.  "You  are  safe,  and  beloved, 
and  entering  a  new  world.  You  are  young 
to  have  endured  so  many  sorrows,  but 
youth  is  elastic  and  the  future  is  bright." 

Geraldine's  breast  heaved,  she  bit  her 
lip,  and  no  eyes  ever  expressed  more  than 
the  speaking  orbs  into  which  the  queen  of 
Keefe  was  looking. 

"I  know  all  that  you  are  thinking,"  said 
Mrs.  Barry.  "I  know  all  that  you  would 
like  to  say.  Don't  try  now.  You  have  had 
enough  excitement.  I  have  always  wanted 
a  daughter.  I  hope  you  will  love  me, 
too." 

She  kissed  the  girl  again,  on  the  lips  this 
time,  and  there  was  fervor  in  the  return. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Barry  telephoned  to 
half  a  dozen  of  her  son's  girl  friends  and  in- 

3°4 


THE   CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

vited  them  to  come  to  a  sewing-bee  and 
help  with  the  curtains  for  her  cottage.  She 
said  that  Miss  Melody  was  visiting  her  and 
that  she  would  like  them  to  know  her.  So 
they  all  came,  wild  with  curiosity  to  see  the 
girl  that  their  own  Ben  had  kidnapped  and 
who  was  going  to  make  him  forget  them; 
and  Geraldine  won  them  all  by  her  modesty 
and  naturalness.  The  fact  that  Ben's  mother 
had  accepted  her  gave  her  courage  in  the 
face  of  this  bevy  who  had  grown  up  with  her 
lover  from  childhood.  They  were  too  un 
certain  of  the  exact  status  of  affairs  between 
the  beautiful  stranger  and  their  old  friend 
to  speak  openly  of  him  to  her,  but  almost 
every  reminiscence  or  subject  of  which  they 
talked  led  up  to  Ben.  Of  course,  some 
among  the  six  pairs  of  eyes  leveled  at 
Geraldine  had  a  green  tinge,  and  there  were 
some  girlish  heartaches;  and  when  the  chat 
tering  flock  had  had  their  tea  and  cakes 
and  left  for  home,  there  were  certain  ones 
who  discussed  the  impossibility  of  there 
being  anything  serious  in  the  wind. 

Ben  was  not  even  at  home.  Would  he 
have  gone  away  for  an  indefinite  time  as 
his  mother  said  he  had  done,  if  he  was  as 

305 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

engrossed  in  the  girl  as  gossip  had  said? 
Had  not  that  very  gossip  proceeded  from 
the  humble  walls  of  Miss  Upton's  shop 
where  the  stranger  had  apparently  found 
her  level?  The  Barrys  had  always  held 
such  a  fine  position,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

"Oh,  but,"  said  Adele  Hastings,  "that 
girl  is  a  lady.  Every  movement  and  word 
proves  it." 

"Besides,"  added  another  maiden,  "her 
being  humble  would  n't  have  anything  to 
do  with  it.  It  never  has,  from  the  time  of 
King  Cophetua  on." 

"Well,"  put  in  the  poor  little  girl  with 
the  greenest  eyes  of  all,  "I  think  it  is  very 
significant  that  Ben  has  gone  away.  You 
notice  Mrs.  Barry  did  n't  invite  her  to 
come  until  he  had  gone,  and  that  common 
Mrs.  Whipp  called  her  by  her  first  name.  I 
heard  her  myself." 

On  the  whole,  Geraldine  had  scored,  and 
really,  although  she  was  at  peace  with  the 
whole  world,  the  fact  of  Mrs.  Barry's  ap 
proval  dwarfed  every  other  opinion  and 
event;  for  it  meant  that  no  longer  need  she 
set  up  a  mental  warning  and  barrier  against 
thoughts  of  her  lover. 

306 


THE   CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

A  few  days  afterward  Ben  telephoned  to 
have  Lamson  at  the  station  at  a  certain 
hour,  and  he  and  Pete  returned  from  their 
strange  quest.  Little  he  dreamed  of  the 
stir  that  telephone  message  caused  in  his 
home. 

All  the  way  out  to  Keefe  on  the  train  he 
was  planning  interviews  with  his  mother 
and  wondering  whether  the  seed  he  had 
dropped  into  her  mind  before  leaving  had 
borne  fruit.  He  had  promised  Geraldine 
not  to  coerce  her,  and  the  girl's  pride  he 
knew  would  not  submit  to  opposing  his 
mother's  wish.  Therefore,  when  Mrs.  Barry 
walked  out  on  the  piazza  to  meet  him,  it 
was  a  very  serious  son  that  she  encountered. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Benny?"  she  asked 
as  she  kissed  him.  "Have  you  failed?" 

"No,  indeed.  I  have  succeeded  triumph 
antly.  I've  got  Carder  in  a  box,  and, 
believe  me,  he  won't  try  to  lift  up  the  lid 
and  let  anybody  see  him." 

"He  was  here  soon  after  you  left,"  said 
Mrs.  Barry  calmly. 

Ben  looked  surprised  and  alert. 

"What  did  he  want?" 

"Pete;  and  he  was  going  to  have  him  or 
307 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

put  you  in  the  lockup.  Also  he  wanted 
Miss  Melody.  He  's  a  wretch,  Ben.  I  'm 
glad  you  went  after  him." 

"He  '11  not  trouble  her  any  more,"  said 
the  young  fellow,  walking  into  the  house 
with  his  mother  clinging  to  his  arm. 
"Carder  is  going  to  have  ample  leisure  to 
think  over  the  game  he  has  played.  Is  n't 
it  a  strange  satire  of  fate  that  should  make 
insignificant  little  Pete  the  boomerang  to 
turn  back  and  floor  him?  Pete's  an  ideal 
witness.  He  sees  what  he  sees  and  he  knows 
what  he  knows,  and  nothing  can  shake  him 
because  he  does  n't  know  anything  else. 
Great  Scott!  when  I  located  the  facts  at 
that  hospital  and  linked  them  together  and 
brought  an  accusation  against  Carder,  it 
was  like  opening  a  door  to  a  swarm  of  hornets. 
He  has  made  so  many  people  hate  him  that 
when  the  timid  ones  found  it  would  be  safe 
to  loosen  up,  they  were  ready  to  fall  upon 
him  and  sting  him  to  death.  He's  safe  to 
get  a  long  sentence,  and  it  will  be  time 
enough  when  he  comes  out  to  talk  to  him 
about  Mr.  Melody's  debts  —  if  Geraldine 
wishes  it." 

Ben  looked  around  suddenly  at  his  mother. 
308 


THE   CLOUDS   DISPERSE 

"Have  you  been  to  Keefeport  to  see  Ger- 
aldine?" 

She  returned  his  gaze  smiling,  and  feigned 
to  tremble.  "I'm  so  glad  I  have,  Ben. 
You  look  so  severe." 

"And  did  you  take  that  magnifying 
glass?" 

"Yes." 

"Wasn't  I  right?"  asked  Ben  with  some 
relief. 

"You  were.  I  like  the  girl.  I  feel  we 
are  going  to  be  friends." 

"Well,  then,  how  about  her  being  a  clerk 
for  Miss  Upton?" 

Ben  asked  the  question  frowning,  and 
flung  himself  down  beside  his  mother  where 
she  had  seated  herself  on  a  divan.  Why 
could  n't  her  blood  run  as  fast  as  his?  Why 
must  she  be  so  cold  and  deliberate  at  a 
crucial  time?  "Going  to  be  friends!"  What 
an  utterly  inadequate  speech ! 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  that,"  re 
joined  his  mother.  "Will  you  please  go  into 
my  study  and  bring  me  a  letter  you'll  find 
on  the  table?" 

Without  a  word,  and  still  with  the  dis 
satisfied  line  in  his  forehead,  the  young  man 
309 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

rose  and  moved  away  toward  the  closed  door 
of  the  sanctum. 

He  opened  it  and  there  was  a  moment  of 
dead  silence.  Mrs.  Barry  could  visualize 
Geraldine  as  she  looked  standing  there, 
radiantly  expectant,  mischievously  blissful. 
The  door  slammed,  and  all  was  silence. 

The  mother  laughed  softly  over  the  bit  of 
sewing  she  had  picked  up.  For  a  minute 
she  could  not  see  very  plainly,  but  she  wiped 
her  eyes  and  it  passed. 


310 


CHAPTER  XVI 
APPLE  BLOSSOMS 

OF  course  Ben  wanted  to  be  married  at 
once,  and  whatever  he  wanted  Geraldine 
wanted,  but  Mrs.  Barry  overruled  this. 

"I  hope  you  will  go  back  to  school,  Ben, 
and  get  your  sheepskin,"  she  said.  "I  want 
you  to  live  in  the  city,  too,  and  leave  Ger 
aldine  with  me.  I  would  like  to  have  some 
happiness  with  a  daughter  before  she  is  en 
grossed  in  being  your  wife.  Wait  for  your 
wedding  until  the  orchard  blooms  again." 

Ecstatic  as  Ben  was,  he  could  see  sense  in 
this;  but  vacation  came  first  and  Geraldine 
was  a  belle  at  Keefeport  that  summer.  Her 
beauty  blossomed,  and  all  the  repressed 
vivacity  of  her  nature  came  to  the  surface. 
Her  room  at  Rockcrest  commanded  the 
ocean,  and  every  night  before  she  slept  she 
knelt  before  her  window  and  gave  thanks 
for  a  happiness  which  seemed  as  illimitable 
as  the  waters  rolling  to  the  horizon.  She 
yachted,  and  danced,  and  canoed,  and  flew, 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

all  that  summer.  She  gained  the  hearts  of 
the  women  by  her  unspoiled  modesty  and 
consideration,  while  Ben  was  the  envy  of 
every  bachelor  at  the  resort.  Nor  did 
Geraldine  forget  Miss  Upton.  Every  few 
days  she  called  at  the  shop,  and  the  two 
women  there  were  never  tired  of  admiring 
and  exclaiming  over  the  charming  costumes 
in  which  Mrs.  Barry  dressed  her  child,  and 
many  a  gift  the  girl  brought  to  them,  never 
forgetting  what  she  owed  to  her  good  fairy. 

Pete  was  a  happy  general  utility  man  and 
Miss  Upton  borrowed  him  at  times;  but  he 
liked  best  working  on  the  yacht,  where  he 
was  never  through  polishing  and  cleaning, 
keeping  it  spick  and  span.  He  was  given  a 
blue  suit  and  a  yachting  cap  and  rolled 
around  the  deck  the  j oiliest  of  jolly  little 
tars. 

When  autumn  came,  Ben  Barry  took 
rooms  in  the  city,  coming  to  Keefe  for  the 
week-ends.  Geraldine,  who  had  had  the 
usual  school-girl  fragments  of  music  and 
languages,  studied  hard,  and  Mrs.  Barry 
took  her  to  town  for  one  month  instead  of 
the  three  which  she  usually  spent  there.  It 
was  best  not  to  divert  Ben  too  much. 

312 


APPLE   BLOSSOMS 


So  the  winter  wore  away,  and  the  snow 
melted  and  the  crocuses  peeped  up  again. 
The  robins  returned,  and  Ben  understood 
at  last  why  their  insistent,  joyous  cry  was 
always  of  Geraldine,  Geraldine,  Geraldine! 

The  orchard  was  under  solicitous  surveil 
lance  this  spring,  and  though  it  takes  the 
watched  pot  so  long  to  boil,  at  last  the  rosy 
clouds  drifting  in  the  sky  seemed  to  catch 
in  the  apple  boughs  and  rest  there,  and  then 
the  wedding  day  was  set. 

The  spacious  rooms  of  the  old  house  were 
cleared  for  dancing,  for  the  ceremony  was 
to  take  place  out  under  the  trees  at  noon. 
Miss  Upton  had  a  new  black  silk  dress 
given  her  by  the  bridegroom  with  a  note 
over  which  she  wept,  for  it  acknowledged 
so  affectionately  all  that  he  owed  to  his 
bride's  good  fairy  from  the  day  when  she 
so  effectively  waved  her  umbrella  wand  in 
the  city.  One  of  her  gowns  was  made  over 
for  Mrs.  Whipp,  who  on  the  great  day  stood 
with  the  maids  and  watched  the  wedding 
party  as  it  filed  out  over  the  lawn  to  the 
rosy  bower  of  the  orchard.  The  six  brides 
maids  wore  pale-green  and  white,  and,  as 
Miss  Upton  viewed  with  satisfaction, 

313 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

"droopy  hats."  She  scanned  the  half- 
dozen  of  Ben's  men  friends  who  supported 
him  on  the  occasion  and  mentally  noted 
their  inferiority  to  her  hero. 

Geraldine  —  but  who  could  describe  Ger- 
aldine  in  her  beautiful  happiness  and  her 
happy  beauty!  Look  over  your  fairy  tales 
and  find  a  princess  in  clinging,  lacy  robes, 
her  veil  fastened  with  apple  blossoms,  and 
the  golden  sheen  of  her  hair  shining  through. 
Her  bouquet  of  lilies-of-the-valley  showered 
down  before  her  and  clung  to  her  filmy  gown 
as  she  stepped,  and  the  sweet  gravity  of  her 
eyes  never  left  the  face  of  the  good  old 
minister  who  had  baptized  Ben  in  his  baby 
hood,  until  he  came  to  the  words:  "Who 
giveth  this  woman  to  be  married  to  this 
man?"  Mrs.  Barry  stepped  forward,  took 
the  hands  of  her  children  and  placed  them 
together.  Mehitable  Upton  was  not  the 
only  one  in  the  large  gathering  who  dis 
solved  at  the  look  on  those  three  faces. 

In  a  minute  it  was  over.  The  two  were 
made  one,  and  a  soft,  happy  confusion  of 
tongues  ensued.  After  the  kissing  and  the 
congratulations,  a  breakfast  was  served  on 
the  wide  piazzas,  and  the  orchestra  behind 


APPLE   BLOSSOMS 


the  screen  of  palms  began  its  strains  of  gay 
music. 

After  Geraldine  had  cut  the  bride's  cake 
and  disappeared  to  put  on  her  going-away 
gown,  one  of  the  waiters  brought  out  the  rice. 

Mrs.  Barry  begged  the  company  not  to 
be  too  generous  with  it.  "Just  a  pinch 
apiece,"  she  said.  "Don't  embarrass  them." 

Adele  Hastings,  the  maid  of  honor,  laughed 
with  her  maids.  She  had  come  very  close  to 
Geraldine  in  the  last  weeks,  and  she  had 
managed  to  get  both  umbrellas  of  bride  and 
groom  and  put  as  much  rice  into  them  as 
the  slim  fastenings  would  permit.  She  be 
lieved  the  bridal  pair  were  going  to  take  a 
water  trip,  and  she  felt  that  the  effect  of 
opening  the  umbrellas  on  a  sunny  deck 
some  day  would  be  exhilarating. 

Mrs.  Barry,  as  serene  as  ever,  and  very 
handsome  in  her  lavender  satin,  disap 
peared  upstairs  for  a  few  minutes.  When 
she  returned,  Lamson  was  driving  the  auto 
mobile  around  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

"Now,  be  merciful  to  those  poor 
youngsters,"  she  said  again,  as,  armed  with 
rice,  they  ranged  themselves  on  the  piazza 
and  steps,  making  an  aisle  for  the  hero  and 

315 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME 

heroine  to  pass  through.  They  waited, 
talking  and  laughing,  when  suddenly  there 
was  a  burst  of  sound.  Over  the  house-top 
came  an  increasing  whirr,  and  an  aeroplane 
suddenly  flew  over  their  heads.  An  ex 
cited  cry  arose  from  the  cheated  crowd. 
Laughter  and  shrieks  burst  from  every  up 
turned  face.  Cher  Ami  circled  around  the 
house,  flew  away  and  returned,  the  young 
people  below  shouting  messages  that  were 
never  heard.  At  last  down  through  the 
laughter-rent  air  came  the  bridal  bouquet, 
and  scrambling  and  more  shrieks  ensued. 
The  little  girl  with  the  greenest  eyes  of  all 
—  one  of  the  bridesmaids  she  was  —  secured 
it.  We  '11  hope  it  was  a  comfort  to  her. 

Lamson  was  demurely  driving  the  car 
back  to  the  garage,  and  Mrs.  Barry,  her 
dignity  for  once  all  forgotten,  was  laughing 
gayly.  The  wedding  party  fell  upon  her 
with  reproaches  while  the  orchestra  gave  a 
spirited  rendition  of  "Going  Up,"  the  avia 
tion  operetta  of  the  day. 

They  all  watched  the  flight  for  a  time, 
but  the  music  invited,  and  soon  the  couples 
were  disappearing  through  the  windows 
into  the  house  and  gliding  over  the  floor. 

316 


APPLE   BLOSSOMS 


Mrs.  Barry  and  Miss  Upton  stood  to 
gether,  still  following  the  swiftly  receding 
aeroplane. 

Mrs.  Barry  shook  her  head  and  sighed, 
smiling.  "Young  America!  Young  Amer 
ica!"  she  murmured. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Upton,  "what  would  our 
grandfathers  have  thought  of  it?  Talk  about 
fairy  tales!  Do  any  of  the  old  stories  come 
up  to  that?" 

"No,"  returned  Mrs.  Barry,  "but  there 
is  one  feature  of  them  that  is  ever  new.  It 
is  the  best  part  of  all  and  no  story  is  complete 
without  it." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Miss  Mehitable, 
nodding.  They  were  both  looking  now  at 
a  small  dark  point  vanishing  into  a  pearly 
cloud.  "I  know,"  she  repeated.  "'And 
they  lived  happily  ever  afterward ! ' ' 


THE    END 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
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